m 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


v 


m 


*n  5o 

' 


THE   HORTONS: 


OB 


merican  Jife  at  10  me. 


BY 

DAVIS  B.  CASSEDAY. 


FOR  SALE  BY         ^ 

JAMES  S.  CLAXTON,  PHILADELPHIA: 

D.  APPLETON  A  Co.,  NEW  YORK:    LEE  &  SHEPPARD,  BOSTON": 

B.  W.  CARROLL  &  Co.,  CINCINNATI:    S.  C.  GRIGGS  &  Co.,  CHICAGO: 

TRUBNER  A   Co.,   LONDON. 

1866. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1865,  by 

DAVIS  B.  CASSEDAY, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Clerk  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Eastern 
District  of  Pennsylvania. 

STKKKOTTPED  AND  PRINTED  BY  ALFRED  MAUTIEN. 


PS 

/JU 

cm*. 


TO 


ARTHUR   W.    MITCHELL, 


MARYLAND, 


THIS   BOOK   IS   AFFECTIONATELY   INSCRIBED. 


1661488 


BflltltlS, 


PAGE 

CHAPTER  I. 

Bad  News  by  the  Telegraph — Father  and  Daughter 5 

CHAPTER    II. 

The  Breakfast-room  at  Belair — The    Merchant  in  his    Counting- 
house— An  Old  Clerk 11 

CHAPTER     III. 

A  Commercial  "Panic" — Bartimeus  Scroggs,  and  other  creditors 21 

CHAPTER  IV. 
l^Tlower-faucies 29 

CHAPTER  V. 

Autumn  days,  and  the  Family  at  Belair — A  Ctfvalier  encountered  at 
Farmer  Gregg's 33 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Y    "Women  in  town  and  country  contrasted — Caroline  Mellen 43 

CHAPTER  VII. 

y   A  Birthday  Party  at  Belair,  and  what  was  said  and  done  thereat....    47 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Some  account  of  the  Crosbys,  and  of  a  poor  neighbor  of  theirs...)^...    60 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Storm  at  Sea,  and  a  Calm  Ashore — Bradley  Horton 67 

CHAPTER   X. 

The  Spirits  iii  Clement  Horton's  Counting-house 73 

V 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Bradley  Horton  at  The  Cedars — Lydia  Bardl'eigh — The  Sick- 
chamber 88 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Bloker  and  Ball— The  Captain's  Widow 100 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  small  Dinner-party  at  Belair,  including  two  representatives  of 
Commerce 107 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

How  the  Anniversary  of  the  Battle  of  Hickory  Hollow  was  cele 
brated  at  Slumptown 115 

i^  CHAPTER  XV. 

A  Moonlight  Excursion  on  the  water — Doctor  Pledget  tells  the 
Story  of  a  Nervous  Patient,  and  becomes  acquainted  with  an 
Astronomer 128 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
Warned  to  Move 145 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

A.t  The  Cedars— Rail- shooting 149 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

.L. —   A  Farm-house  at  evening — Two  Lovers    talk  reasonably  in   the 

moonlight 157 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Clinkers  and  Charity 1C2 

CHAPTER  XX. 

^"~   A  Woman's  Letter — Christinas  at  Belair  without  Grog,  and  what  the 

guests  thought  of  it 174 

CHAPTER   XXI. 

Too  much  Whiskey-punch,  together  with  a  queer  Experience  of  Mr. 
Broon's 185 

CHAPTER   XXII. 

fr       Winter  in  the  Country,  Sleighing  and  Courtship,  and  a  Lover  called 

to  answer 196 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Judge  Bardleigh  talks  Ghost  in  the  twilight 205 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A  Notable  Couple — How  Bartimeus  Scroggs  failed  to  go  to  Congress, 
and  how  Orator  Puffin  went 210 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Father  and  Daughter  again 216 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Brentlands — Scenery  and  Humor  of  the  Country — Max  Heyhurst — 
A  Talk  about  Poetry,  and  Political  Morals 219 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Brentlands — A  day's  duck-shooting 229 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Brentlands — Bradley  Horton  as  a  Farmer — Field,  "Wood,  and  Gar 
den — Tom  Hance — Mr.  Potteril  of  New  Paradise,  and  his  man, 
Simon  Horseradish 234 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

At  The  Cedars — The  Lovers— Uncle  Steve  Trencher 248 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

• 

Lydia  Bardleigh  at  Aunt  Dinah's  death-bed 259 

CHAPfER  XXXI. 

Jane  "Warner — Sewing  for  Bread — Little  Lame  Frank — An  Accident 
and  an  Old  Acquaintance 262 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 
Jane  Warner — Jacob  Bloker — The  Private  Mad-Houso 274 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Tare  and  Tret  out  at  Grass — Little  Frank — Henry  Davenport  seeks 
for  information 282 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
Bloker's  Benevolence 292 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 
How  a  Christian  woman  can  die 297 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
I/   At  the  Old  Clerk's— A  Discovery 304 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

A  party  in  a  city  mansion,  at  which  there  is  conversation  both 
grave  and  gay:  together  with  some  account  of  Doctor  Peter 
Mellen,  and  how  a  dispute  concerning  Hydrophobia  was  settled...  308 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 
A  Conference  concerning  Jane  Warner 321 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

/  /  A  Search  for  Jane  Warner,  and  a  Habeas  Corpus 327 

CHAPTER  XL. 

/   /Borne  pleasant  rides  behind  an  old  cab-horse — Friends  part 333 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

A  Funeral  at  The  Cedars — Bradley  Horton  at  Brentlands — Hail — 
The  old  saddle  sorrel 337 

CHAPTER  XLII. 

New  York — Bradley  Horton  becomes  an  "Able  Editor" 342 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 

Washington  Patriots,  vulpine  and  vulturine — The  Great  Horse  Fair 
at  Hepzida'm — Bloker  reaps  the  Field  of  Blood 345 

CHAPTER  XClV. 

Bartimeus  Scroggs  is  loyal  to  the  Administration,  and  makes  a 
Name  in  History 349 

CHAPTER  XLV. 
Paul  Mervine 353 

CHAPTER  XLVI.    . 

^/A  Death,  and  a  Marriage '. 353 

CHAPTER  XLVII. 
A  Few  Last  Words....  361 


THE    HORTONS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

Believe  me,  sir,  had  I  such  venture  forth, 

The  better  part  of  my  affections  would 

Be  with  my  hopes  abroad.     *    * 

And  every  object  that  might  make  me  fear 

Misfortune  to  my  ventures,  out  of  doubt, 

"Would  make  me  sad. — MERCHANT  OP  VENICE. 

HE  slow,  soft  breeze  of  a  July  night, 
odorous  with  the  exhalations  of  the 
landscape,  sported  capriciously  along 
the  elm-bordered  terrace,  and  bore  its 
benison  through  the  open  windows 
of  the  drawing-room  at  Belair.  Cle 
ment  Horton  sat  gazing  at  shadows 
of  foliage,  traced  by  the  moonlight, 
that  trembled  on  the  pallid  marble 
of  an  opposite  pedestal.  Without, 
between  the  droning  trees,  were  vistas  and  uncertain 
reaches  of  amber-tinted  prospect,  where  growing  corn 
and  oat-fields  sentinelled  with  shocks  merged  in  the 
indistinguishable  meadows  that  margin  the  Tarnell. 

O  O 

The  clank  of  a  closing  gate  aroused  the  watcher. 
Rising,  with  alert  step  he  passed  to  the  terrace.     A 
sound  of  hoofs  upon  a  wooden  bridge,  which  fell  harsh 
1* 


6  THE   HORTONS;    OB 

and  heavy  upon  his  heart,  then  a  duller  thud  approach 
ing  on  the  gravelled  avenue,  and  a  horseman  emerged 
from  a  clump  of  shrubbery. 

"Is  it  you,  Walsh?     The  steamer's  in,  then?" 

"Yes,  sir;  and  here  is  the  dispatch." 

"You  will  find  your  room  ready.  Goodnight."  And 
Mr.  Horton  reentered  the  house  and  retired  to  his 
chamber. 

Warm  as  was  the  night  he  shut  the  jalousie  with 
scrupulous  care,  and  drew  the  curtains  close,  as  if  he 
would  stifle  in  the  pent-up  air  from  all  the  world  the 
impressions  of  impending  disaster  which  oppressed  him. 
Eagerly,  but  with  unsteady  hands,  he  broke  the  en 
velope  of  the  dispatch.  For  a  moment  its  contents 
seemed  blurred;  then,  at  a  glance,  he  comprehended 
all.  His  fears  were  more  than  realized.  A  heavy  fall 
in  the  value  of  sugars  in  the  British  markets,  in  a 
measure  indicated  by  previous  advices,  which  involved 
the  sacrifice  of  large  shipments  that  he  had  made,  and 
the  failure  of  the  old  and  extensive  house  of  Price, 
Irving  &  Co.,  custodians  of  his  affairs  abroad,  was  an 
nounced.  The  magnitude  of  his  misfortune  was  sharply 
defined  in  the  mind  of  Clement  Horton.  'Hope  offered 
no  illusion  to  break  the  force  of  the  blow,  which  was 
bankruptcy. 

Very  curious  are  the  alternations  of  feeling  occasioned 
by  calamity  in  men  of  rugged  fibre.  The  countenance 
of  the  merchant  to  him  who  had  surveyed  it  then  would 
Lave  betrayed  little  indication  of  care  or  struggle  of 
passion.  Nor  was  it  the  face  of  one  stunned  to  insensi 
bility.  The  tension  of  suspense  was  loosed,  and  for  the 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT   HOME.  7 

moment  the  conflict  of  hope  and  apprehension  was 
allayed.  A  conflict,  ah!  how  agonizing  to  a  man  who 
beholds  in  his  fears  the  belief  of  others  in  him,  the 
result  of  laborious  years  and  fidelity  to  honorable 
courses,  passing  into  suspicion  and  censure.  Allayed 
for  the  moment;  fleeting  and  fallacious  relief  I  Dis 
quiet  returned  strengthened,  like  the  evil  spirit  to  its 
swept  and  garnished  house.  It  is  scarcely  extrava 
gance  of  language  to  declare  that  Clement  Horton 
groaned  in  his  anguish  out  of  a  body  of  death.  As  he 
contemplated  the  wreck  of  his  fortune,  too  fragmented 
to  float  him  over  the  gulf — the  sudden  shutting  of  the 
grooves  of  his  career,  his  soul  sank  within  him,  and, 
casting  himself  upon  the  floor  of  his  chamber,  the 
stricken  man  wrestled  and  moaned  away  the  sultry 
summer  night. 

Mr.  Horton  was  a  widower.  Imbued  with  an  abiding 
regard  for  the  memory  of  his  wife,  although  at  the 
meridian  of  life  and  possessed  of  an  ample  fortune, 
in  seven  years  he  had  not  again  married.  While  it 
was  a  sterling,  Clement  Ilorton's  was  not  altogether  an 
attractive  character.  With  a  disposition  to  confide, 
justly  checked  by  knowledge  of  the  world  and  habits 
of  self-reliance,  his  manners  were  not  prepossessing. 
His  temper  was  somewhat  rigorous.  While  he  con 
scientiously  cherished  the  larger  virtues,  and  was  aware, 
as  one  is  when  educated  by  books  and  travel,  of  the 
conventionalism  of  society,  he  bestowed  an  insufficient 
cultivation  upon  the  smaller,  those  benevolences  that 
are  called  the  amenities  of  life.  Truthful,  punctual, 
inflexibly  honest,  unostentatiously  generous  as  an  alms- 


8  THE   HORTONS;   OR 

giver,  scorning  sneakingness  in  all  its  shapes,  he  was 
respected  and  trusted ;  unbending,  taciturn,  occasionally 
severe,  he  restrained  in  others  germs  of  regard  from 
ripening  to  ardent  friendship. 

Mr.  Horton's  surviving  children  were  a  son  and 
daughter.  The  abounding  life  of  nineteen  flowed 
rejoicingly  in  the  veins  of  Emily  Horton.  Far  above 
the  level  of  that  womanhood  where  millinery  ecstacies 
blend  with  platitudes  of  affected  simplicity  and  lacka 
daisical  complaints,  the  lineaments  of  her  character 
displayed  in  well-harmonized  proportions  delicacy  and 
strength;  for,  as  it  sexually  should,  delicacy  predomi 
nated.  A  rare  union  of  qualities,  which  in  a  better 
social  organization  will  be  more  frequent,  when  deter 
mination  and  sentiment  shall  not,  as  now,  expend 
themselves  in  distinct  and  often  conflicting  courses. 
Bodily  exercise  in  full  measure  had  made  her  robust, 
though  not  ungraceful.  Dumb-bells  alternated  with 
French,  and  she  tripped  lightly  and  eagerly  from  the 
music-stool  to  the  saddle.  Carefully  taught,  at  her 
father's  requirement,  the  matr6nly  duties  of  the  house 
hold,  the  art,  seldom  possessed,  of  investing  coarse, 
common-place  labors  with  seemliness,  dignified  her 
industry.  A  healthy  constitution  of  mind  was  made 
fruitful  by  culture.  Tall  and  symmetrical  in  figure, 
her  carriage  was  buoyant  with  athletic  animation.  Of 
fair  complexion,  her  countenance,  tranquilized  by  the 
play  of  eyes  which  were  tender  in  repose,  derived  an 
air  of  archness  from  a  nose  slightly  retrousse.  Luxu 
riant  tresses  of  light  brown  hair  depended  from  a 
simple  coiffure.  Here  was  not  the  lithe  loveliness  of 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  9 

oriental  beauty,  fashioned  in  the  fervor  which  purples 
the  clusters  of  the  lilac,  and  paints  with  Persian  noons 
the  voluptuous  cheek  of  the  peach — a  faultless  mould 
about  a  shrivelled  core  of  soul,  but  the  sound  and 
spiritualized  result  of  a  lusty  Christian  civilization. 

The  moral  character  of  a  true  woman,  in  which  the 
virtues  stand  thick,  may  seem  easy  of  analysis.  Sere 
nity,  earnestness,  self-sacrifice,  endurance,  and  benevo 
lence  quicken  and  ennoble  life.  But  unexpected 
developments  of  excellence  constantly  occur,  and 
suggest  in  turn  latent  and  indefinite  possibilities. 
Besides,  there  is  abatement  for  alloy.  He  who  has 
felt  the  influence  of  such  a  character  most,  knows  how 
hard  it  is  to  adequately  express  it;  like  light,  it  is 
a  diffused  beneficence — pure,  pervading,  and  subtle. 
Enough,  to  remember  the  presence  of  a  spiritual 
woman  as  that  of  one,  like  Spenser's  Una,  whose 


" angel's  face, 

As  the  great  eye  of  heaven,  shined  bright, 
And  made  a  sunshine  in  the  shady  place." 

Yet  there  are  wretched  beings  among  men,  lagos 
and  Stenos  of  society,  whose  souls  are  shut  to  this 
refreshing;  who  sneer  with  the  incredulity  of  the  pit 
at  every  portraiture  of  female  purity,  and  value  it  by 
the  attributed  standard  of  the  coulisse.  So  infernal 
frogs  know  only  the  ooze  of  Acheron.  Even  Satan,  in 
the  presence  of  Eve, 

"  abstracted  stood, 

From  his  own  evil." 

But  the  virtues  and  graces  are  not  necessarily  asso- 


10  THE   IIORTONS;   OR 

elated.  Often  the  most  dangerous  thing  in  bad  women 
is  their  fascinating  self-possession;  while  goodness  is 
of  plain  case  and  uncourtly.  Correggio,  instinctively 
truthful,  has  depicted  the  Furies  not  old,  withered,  and 
deformed,  the  awful  Memories  of  ^Eschylus  in  shapes 
of  hideous  sisterhood,  but  as  women,  comely  with  the 
rounded  freshness  of  youth,  a  solitary  serpent  filletting 
each  head,  but  faces — faces  infernally  implacable  with 
perverted  passions. 

Emily  Horton's  nature  was  not  ductile.  Her  virtues 
and  defects  tended  to  the  positive.  Hence  she  shunned 
shams,  and  was  without  prudery.  Some  caprices  she 
showed,  being  a  woman,  but  claimed  no  prerogative  to 
cherish  them;  and  in  matters  of  moment,  she  was  not 
uncertain.  Least  of  all  was  there  varying  in  the  stead 
fastness  of  her  love,  which  did  not  cling  with  the  wan 
tonness  of  whim,  but  clave  with  the  directness  and 
strength  of  passion.  She  strove  to  inspire  her  actions 
with  a  pure  regard  for  wisdom  and  goodness;  to  live 
in  the  exercise  of  charity,  which  is  the  method  of  a 
comprehensive  righteousness.  Self-appreciation  some 
times  disported  on  the  level  of  a  spiritualized  pride, 
which  was  not  Pharisaism.  Excess  was  apt  to  be  the 
measure  of  her  antipathies.  The  contemplation  of 
wrong  and  meanness  swelled  her  resentment  to  hatred, 
or  sank  it  to  contempt.  Her  nature,  sensitive  in  its 
strength,  capable  alike  of  love  and  loathing,  was  rich 
in  solace  for  sore  occasions. 


AMERICAN    LIFE   AT   liOME. 


11 


CHAPTEE    II. 

MEN  are  as  so  many  emmets,  busy,  busy  still,  going  to  and  fro,  in  and  out, 
and  crossing  one  another's  projects,  as  the  lines  of  several  sea-cards 
cut  each  other  in  a  globe  or  map.  Now  light  and  merry,  but  by-and- 
by  sorrowful  and  heavy;  now  hoping,  then  distrusting;  now  patient, 
to-morrow  crying  out. — ANATOMY  OF  MELANCHOLY. 


GRISTING-,  attended  by  the  warm 
South,  was  trailing  her  pall,  glit 
tering  with  dew,  upon  wood  and 
field.  From  the  bay-window  of 
the  breakfast-room  a  parterre  of 
verbenas  violet-hued  and  crimson, 
orange-suited  jonquils,  and  roses 
of  imperial  aspect  though  garbed 
in  saintly  white,  stretched  pic 
turesquely  irregular  until  it  was 
lost  behind  a  copse  of  shrubbery.  Gravelled  avenues 
exhaling  coolness  in  the  shadow  of  overarching  trees, 
alleys  meandering  through  sunny  spaces  of  turf,  a 
jubilant  choir  of  robins  fresh  from  the  morning  feast 
of  cherries,  the  sober  and  familiar  wren,  the  oriole,  a 
gleam  of  gold  and  jet,  cleaving  the  tresses  of  the 
willow,  the  bugles  of  bees  faintly  blowing  in  the 
jessamine- scented  air,  contributed  their  several  de 
lights  to  the  enchanting  summer  morning  scene. 


12  THE   HORTONS;    OE 

It  was  not  until  twice  summoned  that  Mr.  Ilorton, 
but  little  refreshed  by  daylight  dozes,  appeared.  If 
this  unusual  breach  of  punctuality  excited  the  atten 
tion  of  his  daughter,  his  haggard  look,  despite  an 
assumption  of  briskness  as  little  like  healthy  animation 
as  the  restlessness  of  fever,  aroused  her  solicitude. 
It  was  new  to  her,  that  look  of  one  whose  "heart 
taketh  not  rest  in  the  night." 

"Breakfast  has  been  ready  this  half-hour,  father; 
you  are  late,  and  seern  ill." 

"  The  hot  night  and  wakefulness,  Emily.  I  confess 
to  being  out  of  sorts,  and  I  don't  feel  hungry  now 
I'm  here." 

The  repast  proceeded  in  an  uneasy  silence. 

"  Really  you  should  not  call  that  a  breakfast,  man 
pere — a  bit  of  meat  no  bigger  than  a  lozenge!  Try 
this  pigeon." 

"No,  child;  nature  is  clogged.  After  all,  I  believe 
a  cup  of  strong  coffee  is  the  best  crutch  for  an  ailing 
man." 

"Don't  the  doctors  forbid  it?" 

"Yes — and  drink  it.  In  India,  I  knew  captains  of 
the  country  ships  who  lived  almost  on  curry  and 
coffee.  One  shrivelled,  sallow-skinned  old  fellow  took 
a  score  of  cups  a  day,  was  eighty  when  I  met  him, 
and  perfectly  clear-headed,  but,  it  must  be  owned, 
much  like  a  palsy  in  a  bundle  of  parchment." 

Reserved  as  was  Mr.  Horton  in  his  intercourse  with 
the  world,  with  his  daughter  he  was  easy  and  unre 
strained;  still  this  bizarre  sprightliiiess  was  unusual, 


AMERICAN.  LIFE  AT  HOME.  13 

and  set  awkwardly  upon  him.  A  servant  announced 
the  carriage,  and  Mr.  Horton  rose. 

"Be  quiet  to-day,  father,  and  keep  from  the  sun. 
I  think  I  shall  be  in  the  city  for  some  dresses.  If  we 
go  to  Newport  next  month  I  must  get  ready.  A  note 
from  Caroline  Mellen  tells  me  that  she  will  be  at  my 
service,  and  you  know  ladies  hate  solitary  shopping. 
Did  you  like  the  pearl-colored  silk  I  showed  you?" 

"  Yes,  Emily,  I  thought  it  pretty,  but — your  taste  is 
better  taught  than  mine." 

Newport !  The  word  to  the  merchant  was  a  pang. 
But  the  carriage  wheels  had  not  ceased  to  crunch  the 
gravel  of  his  grounds  when  weightier  cares  thronged 
his  mind.  Much  of  his  paper  was  daily  falling  due, 
and  large  payments  would  be  demanded  within  the 
week.  He  could  still  go  on  for  some  days,  perhaps 
several  weeks,  at  the  price  of  further  involvement. 
To  this  as  an  upright  man  he  would  not  consent. 
Yet  hardly  was  he  resolved  to  stop  at  once,  when  a 
more  sanguine  mood  controlled  him.  He  could  yet 
contrive  to  get  through  his  difficulties  without  the 
humiliation  of  proclaimed  failure;  it  only,  needed 
management  and  nerve,  and  both  were  his.  He  would 
accomplish  all  by  a  masterly  adroitness;  there  should 
be  no  equivocal  finesse.  The  unsullied  credit  and 
large  concerns  of  his  house,  the  fair  growth  of  a 
quarter  of  a  century,  should  not  thus  topple  in  an 
hour.  Brief  beguilement.  Behind  it,  an  enduring 
background,  was  necessity,  stark  and  stringent,  and 
importunate  as  an  avenging  shade. 

Along  the  dusky  highway;  cityward.  The  plodding 
2 


14  THE   HOKTONS;   OR 

teamster  swerves  with  call  and  crack  of  lash  his 
sinewy  leader,  and  thinks  the  smart  equipage  which 
hurries  by,  the  very  shrine  of  happiness.  A  misan 
thropic  butcher's  boy,  driving  a  herd  of  beeves,  con 
torts  his  tallow-hued  expanse  of  face  to  a  scowl  of 
envy,  curses  in  shamble-seasoned  adjectives  his  scurvy 
fortune,  and  poles  the  nearest  ox.  A  pedler  in  the 
hedge,  biting  his  frugal  crust,  catches  a  glimpse  of 
cosy  cushions  and  a  portly  gentleman  in  spruce  attire, 
and  thinks  of  the  burden  of  the  long,  sweaty  day.  A 
brace  of  fast  young  gentlemen  ogle  languidly  the  car 
riage  and  its  occupants,  and  bandy  sententious  com 
ments.  "Old  Horton — rich  as  a  Jew — 'mazing  pretty 
daughter,  Bob:  Old  f'ler  himself  'cidedly  slow — 
s'prisin  how  them  'fernal  slow  men  wear!"  Across 
converging  railroad  tracks;  by  brick-yards,  patches  of 
truck,  and  grimy  factories ;  by  suburban  taverns  redo 
lent  of  bitters,  with  their  groups  of  morning  idlers,  and 
hostlers  doing  stable  sleights  with  chunks  of  sponge 
and  empty  buckets ;  by  limbo-looking  spaces  cumbered 
with  refuse  lumber,  car-wheels,  and  grindstones,  and 
superannuated  coaches,  warped,  blistered,  bare,  and 
dismal,  doing  righteous  penance  for  the  hypocrisy  of 
their  running  days  when  they  were  never  full;  by 
cemeteries,  where  falsehood  suns  itself  in  stone  atop, 
while  underneath  reality  takes  refuge  in  dead  night 
and  the  wormy  corpse-stuffed  mould;  then  on  the 
street,  among  the  currents  of  existence  that  set  toward 
the  greedy  vortex  of  the  town. 

The  counting-house  of  Clement  Horton  was  entered 
from  a   narrow  lane   which   skirted   the   river.     You 


AMERICAN  MFE   AT   HOME.  15 

reached  it  along  an  entry  dimly  lighted  by  a  single 
cobwebbed  window,  and  a  flight  of  well-worn  steps. 
Over  a  stone  archway,  through  which  heavy  drays 
laden  with  bales  and  tierces  from  the  adjacent  wharves 
rumbled  all  day  long,  scraping  the  damp  granite  sides, 
and  rats  scudded  stealthily  in  the  black  mud,  it  gar 
nered  year  by  yp.ar  its  inky  fruit  in  iron  chests,  be 
tween  ponderous  lids  of  tawny  leather,  and  upon  stems 
of  wire  that  cropped  along  the  walls.  Its  prospect  was 
a  lean  slice  of  water  scenery  sandwiched  in  a  brick  per 
spective;  ships  at  their  moorings  discharging  cargo,  or 
sweltering  lazily  in  the  caulker's  reek  of  pitch,  and 
passing  steamboats  that  left  legacies  of  smoke  athwart 
the  view.  The  region  and  its  dwellers  wore  a  dingy, 
not  to  say  Stygian  aspect.  The  huge  warehouses  rose 
sullenly  above  the  life  which  surged  beside  them  and 
took  nothing  of  its  impress;  a  sense  of  separateness 
like  that  of  coffins  from  the  funeral  concourse  striking 
the  beholder,  who  as  he  passed  the  open  doors  and  got 
glimpses  of  porters  laboring  far  back  in  the  cavernous 
gloom  thought  they  seemed  rummaging  a  sepulchre. 
From  the  coopers'  shops  came  the  knocking  of  busy 
adzes,  and  an  odor  of  freshly  whittled  oak.  Weighmas- 
ters  and  their  men  bustled  among  bales  and  bags,  and 
stevedores  shoved  with  slow  labor  grating  casks. 
Massive  anchors  and  coils  of  rust-eaten  chain,  stowed 
in  sideway  recesses,  mocked  humanity  with  their  grim 
impassiveness.  For  the  habitable  buildings,  they  were 
groggeries  and  junk-shops,  where  thieves  sold  their 
plunder,  sailor  boarding-houses,  and  brothels  of  the 
baser  sort — pustules  into  which  run  the  peccant  humors 


16  THE    HORTONS;    OK 

of  urban  civilization.  The  inhabitants  were  chiefly 
remarkable  for  an  avoidance  of  cleanliness,  a  tendency 
to  blear-eyes,  and  the  consumption  of  clams.  The 
musty  air  was  toned  with  an  exhaustless  smell  of 
onions.  Such  was  the  hallowed  ground  where  Mam 
mon  owned  his  altars. 

Seated  in  his  private  office,  Mr.  Horton  engaged  with 
accustomed  regularity  in  the  perusal  of  the  day's  cor 
respondence.  He  was  interrupted  while  making  some 
memoranda  concerning  it  by  the  entrance  of  his  confi 
dential  clerk,  who,  having  received  the  instruction 
which  he  sought,  was  retiring,  iHien  the  merchant  with 
an  effort  detained  him. 

"Mr.  Davenport,  please  wait  a  moment:  I  have 
something  to  say." 

The  pause  which  followed,  and  the  steady  and 
serious  gaze  of  the  speaker  disconcerted  his  subordi 
nate. 

"Henry,  I  am  a  broken  man;  (twitching  of  the 
mouth)  I  must  stop." 

"You  are  joking,  sir,"  faltered  Davenport, — "trying 
me?" 

"Would  to  God  I  were!" 

Then  a  new  notion  possessed  the  clerk — his  em 
ployer's  mind  was  unbalanced.  If  Henry  Davenport 
had  faith  in  anything,  not  properly  the  object  of  devo 
tion,  it  was  the  stability  of  the  house  of  Horton.  Iden 
tified  with  it  by  a  service  of  nearly  twenty  years,  no 
waking  thought  or  nightmare  of  mercantile  disaster 
had  ever  disturbed  him.  As  soon  would  he  have  con 
fessed  the  rcits  could  demolish  the  old  granite  archway. 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  17 

Often  had  he  counted  Mr.  Ilorton's  estate;  a  quarter  of 
a  million  at  low  valuation — not  a  dollar  less.  It  was 
growing  yearly,  too,  with  improved  vicinity  and  growth 
of  revenue.  He  knew -of  losses,  indeed,  in  excess  of 
the  customary  business  per  centage;  but  compared  with 
the  capital  which  was  pitted  against  them  they  might 
justly  seem  insignificant;  as  well  question  a  ship's 
staunchness  for  the  barnacles  upon  its,  bottom — and 
failed?  Lunacy,  clearly  lunacy;  dulness  itself  might 
see  it.  And  so,  his  mind  a  tumult  of  incredulity, 
Davenport  gazed  upon  his  principal,  who  was  refold 
ing  mechanically  the  morning's  letters.  Presently  the 
merchant  broke  the  silence. 

"There  is  minous  news  from  Europe,  where  I  have 
large  consignments.  I  operated  silently,  looking  for  a 
happy  stroke  of  fortune,  and  mortgaged  my  property 
to  make  payments.  My  sagacity  has  been  at  fault,  and 
I  have  lost.  In  the  present  tightness  of  money  I  see  it 
is  impossible  for  me  to  go  on ;  and  that  only  do  I  see 
plainly.  I  must  consult  my  friends.  My  farms  at 
Brentlands  will  be  attached,  of  course,  and  I  desire 
some  special  debts  to  have  priority,  and  that  may  pre 
vent  an  arrangement  with  all  my  creditors,  which  I 
hope  for,  but  hardly  expect.  It  is  a  shocking  business, 
but  I  will  hold  nothing  back;  they  shall  impute  to  me 
no  dishonesty.  I  have  extended  indulgence  to  others 
in  distress;  heaven  knows  whether  I  shall  receive  it!'' 

The  old  clerk  blew  his  nose  with  energy,  and  replied 
in  a  husky  voice: 

"If  it  be  so  bad  as  you  think,  sir,  still  it  cannot 
be  desperate.  The  house  of  Clement  Horton  has  a 
2* 


18  THE   HORTONS;   OR 

character  which  must  command  terms.  No  creditor 
however  churlish,  dare  brave  public  opinion  by  re 
fusing  them.  After  so  many  years,  this  is  a  rough 
turn  of  affairs  for  me,  sir.  But,"  he  quickly  added, 
with  an  attempt  at  cheerfulness  which,  despite  the 
jaunty  flourishing  of  his  bandana,  was  sorry  assurance, 
"it  will  all  come  right,  and  end  a  balance  in  our  favor." 
•  "God  bless  you  for  your  sympathy,  my  friend!  I 
hope  1  shall  meet  the  worst  firmly,  as  becomes  an  up 
right  man,"  responded  the  merchant. 

The  law  of  the  old  clerk's  life  was  method,  stronger 
than  the  utmost  spite  of  fortune,  and  he  trod  his  round 
of  duties  with  the  same  systematic  steps,  but  his  heart 
reeled  beneath  the  burden  of  a  noble  sorrow.  The 
young  men  over  whom  he  presided  observed  that  his 
characteristic  equanimity,  happily  tempered  with  deci 
sion,  had  given  place  to  a  restless  and  querulous  de 
meanor.  Aroused  from  moodily  brooding  over  his 
accounts,  he  would  respond  to  the  occasion  with 
splenetic  activity. 

"By  George,  Wilson!"  whispered  Snively — seven 
teen,  with  a  faint  down  on  his  upper  lip — "old  Dav's 
bagged  at  last.  Now  I  know  the  meaning  of  the  flashy 
rest  he  sported  Sunday.  Reg'lar  loud  pattern — saw 
»ne  of  the  Yigee  boys  as  Dav  passed  her  house  look  as 
if  he'd  like  to  garote  him  for  it — Twig?" 

The  interrogated,  sucking  the  tip  of  his  pen-holder 
the  while,  regarded  his  superior  with  an  air  of  senti 
mental  interest,  lapsed  into  a  despairing  sigh,  and,  under 
cover  of  his  desk-lid,  whistled  sotto  voce  a  bar  of  "  Un 
happy  Jeremiah." 


AMERICAN  -LIFE   AT   HOME.  19 

Fancy  not,  O  brother,  who  art  travelling  through 
"this  vale,"  that  our  afflictions,  thine  and  mine,  will  be 
read  aright;  or  understood,  educe  tearful  responses 
from  Stokes,  or  Gibbs,  or  Thompson,  fellow-creatures 
altogether  lovely  though  they  be,  and  parcel  of  the 
general  caravan.  The  rue  we  cherish  may  not  exhale 
their  favorite  odor,  nor  possess  for  them  an  inspiring 
'tint.  Leave  them  without  upbraiding  to  the  flora  of 
their  choice.  Their  orange  blossoms,  roses,  poppies, 
will  seem  even  to  us,  for  all  our  present  drapery  of 
woe,  a  twelve-month  hence  less  vapid.  Let  drollery 
thfin  do  on,  and  laugh,  if  it  will,  behind  its  hand,  with 
dear,  delightful  Elia,  at  a  funeral. 

Mr.  Horton  confided  his  difficulties  to  two  business 
and  personal  intimates.  Relieved  by  the  hearty  offor 
of  their  services,  and  the  relinquishment  of  part  of  his 
burden — its  shearing  in  our  meaning-full  Saxon  tongue 
— he  was  about  to  go  home,  when  Davenport  entered 
and  handed  him  a  package. 

"  There  is  something,  sir,  I  will  thank  you  to  use  for 
me." 

"Use I     What  is  it?     Stop,  Henry!" 

"Well,  if  I  must, — certificates  of  stock.  I  have 
invested  about  nine  thousand  dollars.  Half  of  it  is 
devoted  to  the  support  of  my  mother,  should  I  dia 
before  her;  with  her  frugal  habits,  and  a  small  annuity 
of  her  own,  it  will  be  enough.  For  myself,  I  cannot 
live  without  employment.  Besides,  just  in  my  prime — 
lustier  than  half  the  sickly  spawn  of  twenty,  now-a- 
days.  Whatever  happens,  I  shall  tick  on  till  I  run 
down.  Eh!  don't  smile,  sir;  a  little  bald,  but  it  runs 


20  THE  HORTONS;   OR 

in  the  family — sign  of  a  strong  constitution,  they  say, 
and  convenient  for  shower-baths." 

"I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart,  but  I  cannot — ." 

"Nor  can  I,"  exclaimed  the  ardent  Davenport  with 
brisk  determination,  as  he  disappeared. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  old  Dav,  Snively?"  asked 
Wilson  that  night  in  a  convivial  lull  at  the  weekly 
union  of  the  "  Musical  Owls," — Juddle,  of  the  wholesale 
provision  line,  famous  for  his  stunning  solo  of  the 
"Blue-tailed  Fly"  to  a  jews-harp  accompaniment,  in  the 
chair.  "Hang  me,  sir,  if  I  didn't  see  him  this  after 
noon,  when  you'd  all  gone,  before  the  glass  tieing 
fancy  knots  in  his  cravat,  and  looking  a  perfect  Romeo. 
Well,  when  he  turned  quick  and  caught  me  spotting 
him,  and  some  astonished  I  was  I  rather  think,  he 
laughed,  took  his  hat,  gave  me  a  parting  punch  in  the 
ribs  with  a  volume  of  McCullough,  and  sloped." 

"Hit  by  the  little  archer,  my  boy!  Wooman;  lovely 
woo-man!"  and  the  experienced  youth  thrust  the 
suction-tube,  with  scientific  precision,  through  the 
centre  of  a  slice  of  lemon  in  his  cobbler. 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME. 


CHAPTEE    III. 

How  now,  Shylock?  what  news  among  the  merchants? 

MERCHANT  OP  VENICE. 


,HAT  splendid  sunsets  we  have, 
father,"  remarked  Emily.  They 
were  lingering  over  their  tea. 

"Yes?  I  confess  inattention. 
Perhaps  I  appreciate  sunset  more 
as  a  relief -this  hot  weather  than 
a  show." 

"Look!  I  think  of  Italian 
skies,  and  Bradley.  Are  'blue 
Friuli's  mountains'  laved  by  a 
more  imperial  flood  ?  I  fancy  it  is  an  efflux  of  para 
dise,  where  sainted  shadows,  untouched  by  gross  influ 
ences,  may  lean  and  listen  to  our  clamor,  and  find  their 
happiness  increased."  Perhaps  she  was  invoking  good 
angels  for  the  absent,  and  so  came  to  think  it,  for  she 
immediately  added,  "I  wonder  brother  Bradley  has 
not  written  in  so  long  a  time;  it  is  more  than  a  month." 
There  had  been  no  such  pressure  in  the  money  mar 
ket  as  now  prevailed,  since  the  memorable  crisis  inau 
gurated  by  the  "smash,"  as  it  was  emphatically  called, 
of  the  famous  firm  of  Splinter  &  Splurge.  That,  it  will 
be  recollected,  brought  down  half  the  banks  of  the 


22  THE   HOKTONS;   OR 

country  by  the  run.  Splinter  was  thought  to  have 
made  a  rather  good  thing  of  the  failure,  being  "smart." 
Certain  it  is  that  he  lived  in  pious  opulence  ever  after 
on  the  income  of  a  bankrupt,  was  particular  about  his 
wines,  sold  his  billiard  table,  built  a  private  chapel, 
and  entertained  the  bishop  with  holy  hospitality.  It  is 
also  consolatory  to  know,  as  showing  that  secular  merit 
is,  at  least,  rewarded  in  this  calumniated  world,  that 
Splurge  was  subsequently  elected  secretary  of  the 
Epirus  and  Bungville  Bailroad,  "realized"  a  snug  sum 
by  an  over-issue  of  its  bonds,  and  died,  in  an  afflu 
ence  of  bequests,  proprietor  of  a  Cuban  sugar  estate 
and  two  hundred  tattooed  and  musculous  Bozales. 
The  pressure  was  growing  daily,  too.  Stout  gentle 
men,  with  double  chins  and  claret-colored  counte 
nances,  discussed  with  lean  and  bilious  gentlemen  at 
the  insurance  offices  whether  it  would  become  a  panic, 
delivering,  as  they  swung  their  watch-seals,  portentous 
periods  in  a  big,  infallible  tone,  to  which  the  bilious 
men  croaked  confirmatory  tremendous  prophecies  of 
woe.  There  was  the  same  unflagging  buzz  of  voice* 
on  'Change,  the  droning  worship  of  Plutus,  till  the 
janitor  came  and  rang  it  out,  when  it  stagnated  on  the 
steps,  and  eddied  in  the  passages,  and  flowed  into  the 
convenient  refectory  to  mix  with  the  ring  of  glasses 
and  the  tinkle  of  pounded  ice.  The  same  buzz  of 
voices,  but  there  were  inflections  now — culminations 
of  sound  when  groups  got  fresh  intelligence  of  disaster, 
and  short,  sharp  expressions  of  surprise  in  features  and 
movement;  bubbles,  so  to  speak,  above  .the  foundered 
firms.  Many  a  rich  argosy  escaped  shipwreck  in  the 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME.  23 

shelter  of  the  Barbary  Coast  of  three  per  cent,  a  month, 
and  sailed  a  long  voyage  afterward  with  its  signal  of 
distress,  a  usurer's  heart  sprouting  vultures'  claws. 
The  pinched  "drags" — bodies  pea-green,  and  wheels 
daintily  picked  in  red  and  brimstone — of  horsey-look 
ing  men  who  dealt  in  dry-goods  were  not  seen  of  after 
noons  upon  the  road.  Elderly  citizens,  uxorious  no 
longer,  rebuked  testily  Madame's  propensity  to  gad 
when  she  proposed  the  sea-side  or  Saratoga,  declared 
these  were  contrivances  for  the  encouragement  of  heat, 
racket,  dust,  dysentery,  and  mosquitoes,  and  that,  con- 
trarily,  the  city  was  an  elysium  of  freshness  and  ease. 
Poor  women,  nurses,  seamstresses,  and  schoolmistresses, 
with  their  little  all  hoarded  in  stocks,  bore  anxious 
hearts,  in  which  every  rumor  roused  a  pang.  The 
blind  and  bed-ridden  annuitants  full  of  years,  stripped 
of  their  small  support — let  us  trust  that  heaven  made 
of  their  adversity  a  blessing,  and  sanctified  their  crust 
and  cruse  as  were  never  Splinter's  sapid  viands  by 
grace  episcopal,  uttered  in  the  bishop's  most  mellifluent 
manner,  and  bodied  with  turtle  and  Green  Seal. 

Among  others,  Mr.  Horton's  failure  had  been  an 
nounced,  and  had  occasioned  a  little  stir  in  the  great 
world  of  traffic.  His  property  was  hastily  attached. 
Brentlands,  near  Wilton,  was  seized.  The  village  law 
yers  were  busy  and  blithesome,  and  the  sheriff  was  a 
happy  man  in  view  of  fees.  There  came,  however,  a 
lifting  of  the  clouds. 

Brentlands  was  a  productive  estate  of  fifteen  hun 
dred  acres.  Under  the  skilful  management  of  Mr. 
Horton  it  had  furnished  a  yearly  revenue  equal  to  the 


24  THE  HOKTONS;   OR 

interest  of  more  than  twice  its  market  value,  and  even 
that  value,  because  of  the  financial  distress,  perhaps  for 
a  long  period  would  be  depreciated.  These  considera 
tions  tended  to  abate  the  eagerness  of  a  few  who  were 
sordid,  and  who  stood  for  a  speedy  sale  of  the  lands 
and  chattels,  and  prepared  the  way  for  an  arrangement. 
A  call,  to  effect  this,  appeared  in  the  Commercial 
Register  for  a  meeting  of  the  creditors  of  Clement  Hor- 
,  ton  at  the  offices  of  Lytell  Jowl,  Esquire,  Attorney  at 
Law  and  Solicitor  in  Chancery. 

Many  phases  of  character  were  presented  to  amuse 
the  spectator  pleased  with  variant  views  of  human 
nature  in  the  assembly  at  Jowl's.  There  was  the  ven 
erable  Bliggs  who  contradicted  nobody,  whose  lips  dis 
tilled  honey  of  Hybla,  while  his  head  was  a  perpetual 
ambush  for  the  unwary;  Glump,  whose  moral  nature 
oozed  in  rigorous  sentiments  of  piety,  and  at  whose 
approach  his  children  feared  and  trembled;  the  manly 
Duncan;  Jacob  Bloker,  of  the  firm  of  Bloker  and  Ball; 
the  fair-minded  Lamed ;  and  Eapin,  extensive  "  ope 
rator''  in  salt  fish,  who  knew  by  heart  the  British 
peerage,  and  wore  a  moustache  of  such  unparalleled 
ierocity  that  it  suggested  gunpowder  rations  and  train 
ings  before  Sebastopol.  There,  too,  luminous  "  emongst 
the  lesser  lights,"  beamed  Bartimeus  Scroggs. 

The  vanity  of  Scroggs  would  have  scouted  less  than 
a  separate  and  especial  paragraph.  A  solitary  feat  of 
his  babyhood  was  preserved  by  tradition,  the  habit 
of  closing  his  fist  upon  a  coveted  object  with  a  singular 
obstinacy  of  grasp.  The  builder  of  his  own  fortune,  he 
oegan  and  continued  life  with  a  purpose — the  acquisi- 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME.  25 

tion  of  wealth ;  and  he  was  successful,  for  his  energy 
cropped  from  a  rich  sub-soil  of  self-esteem.  Assidu 
ously  he  prosecuted  his  aim,  holding  crooked  courses 
to  be  rather  unsightly,  but  necessary  to  the  aptitudes 
of  business.  He  deposited,  perhaps  sometimes  with 
disrelish,  his  eggs  of  contrivance  in  any  carcass,  satis 
fied  if  they  returned  plump  and  early  maggots.  Un 
profitable  in  the  end,  if  Scroggs  but  knew  of  any  other 
world  than  that  of  tare  and  tret.  And  it  has  been  well 
said  that  "he  who  destroys  confidence  murders  the 
generations."  By  others,  Scroggs  was  styled  an  infidel ; 
he  called  himself  a  spiritualist,  and  talked  glibly  of  an 
inevitable  disembodied  progression,  an  assured  devel 
opment  and  exaltation  of  the  soul  hereafter;  of  which, 
averred  the  scoffers,  that  of  Bartimeus  would  stand  in 
urgent  need.  The  heaven  into  which  he  looked  to 
enter  was  a  mixture  of  Mahomet's  paradise  and  the 
elysium  of  classic  paganism.  Such  being  his  creed,  it 
cannot  surprise  that  his  cherished  maxim  was,  to  live 
entirely  in  and  for  this  world;  while  he  contemplated 
the  next  as  he  would  a  Chinese  puzzle,  with  curiosity 
but  without  concern.  With  inordinate  ambition, 
wealth,  and  a  consciousness  of  its  power,  and  with 
out  any  spiritualizing  faith,  there  was  to  be  found 
no  check  in  this  man's  life  higher  than  the  opinion  of 
the  mart  to  assure  it  just.  In  politics  he  was  a  fierce 
Republican,  not  from  the  impulses  of  a  benevolent 
nature,  but  from  jealousy  of  the  educated  and  arrogant 
aristocracy  of  the  South,  whose  pretensions,  seldom 
temperate  and  sometimes  thrasonical,  offended  his 
enormous  vanity.  Yet  he  had  some  sense  of  equity 
3 


26  THE  HORTONS;    OR 

in  the  abstract — as  Alexander  Carlyle's  carousing  and 
wenching  Scotch  lairds  had  of  religion — which  sup 
plied  him  with  a  basis  of  semi-sincerity.  It  was  his 
vanity  which  kept  him  steadfast  during  the  weakness 
and  unpopularity  of  his  party,  and  impelled  him  to 
aspire  when  it  had  acquired  strength  and  power  to 
offices  and  honors  for  which  he  was  unfitted  either  by 
nature  or  cultivation.  To  secure  place  and  its  profits, 
although  generosity  was  not  the  method  of  his  blood, 
he  opened  his  purse  to  infirm  newspapers,  and  kept 
in  pay  a  crew  of  pothouse  politicians.  Even  in  this 
selfish  bounty  he  recompensed  himself  by  a  more 
selfish  provision,  and  while  claiming  full  credit  for  a 
gift,  exacted  a  promissory  note.  "When  Wriggle  of 
the  Bugle,  who  coaxed  from  able  writers  of  the  party 
editorials  in  charity,  and  ostentatiously  claimed  them 
for  his  own,  was  unprosperous,  he  offered  inky  incense 
at  the  shrine  of  Scroggs,  and  settled  his  weekly  bills. 
One  two-column  biography,  intensely  seasoned,  of 
which  ten  thousand  extra  copies  were  forthwith  scat 
tered  broadcast,  Scroggs  in  areas  and  doorways,  until 
the  town,  as  with  an  Egyptian  plague,  was  Scroggs- 
infested,  supplied  the  Bugle  with  wind  enough  for 
several  months  of  tooting.  Perfect  temperance  in 
drinking,  and  toleration  of  the  shortcomings  of  others 
provided  neither  his  prejudice  nor  interest  was  .in 
vaded,  were  among  his  sources  of  strength.  Yet 
with  all  his  advantages  Bartimeus  was  not  Machiavel, 
and  was  sometimes  surpassed  by  abler  and  shrewder 
men.  In  person  he  was  robust — "alimentiveness 
large,"  said  the  phrenologists — his  hair  was  red,  and 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  27 

his  gray  eyes,  from  which  diverged  busy  wrinkles, 
would  have  been  hard  but  for  a  tendency  to  moisture 
scarcely  emotional.  For  his  occupation,  he  was  a 
heavy  dealer  in  brass. 

It  was  the  last  of  several  meetings  to  discuss  Mr. 
Horton's  affairs,  Jowl  presiding,  and  looking,  with  a 
stretch  of  fancy,  as  if  he  had  plunged  into  all  the 
commentators  and  was  present  to  be  wrung. 

"Any  of  our  friends  gone  up  to-day,  Mr.  Glump?" 
asked  Bliggs: 

"Not  that  I  have  heard." 

"Wait  till  the  first  of  the  month,"  said  Rapin: 
"  Houses  will  go  like  a  row  of  bricks  on  edge  when 
the  end  one  tumbles.  Never  knew  such  deuced  kite 
flying.  Paper  on  the  street  is  as  hard  to  move  as  lead 
— gilt-edged  and  short  at  that." 

"Things  will  settle,  perhaps,  after  that,"  observed 
Glump. 

"Dunno.  Is  this  Hulger's  fourth  or  fifth  stop, 
Lamed?"  , 

"  Uhm — I  forget.  He  fails  as  regularly  as  a  Dutch 
almanac  in  its  predictions  of  the  weather.  Ninety 
thousand  this  time,  I'm  told ;  but  he'll  be  right  again 
in  a  month.  Can't  afford  to  lose  him  on  'change;  he 
makes  more  business  than  any  three  men  there." 

"  He's  living  fast,  though — drinks  hard,  and  will  go 
off  yet  with  a  Frenchman.  I  saw  Mrs.  H.  on  the 
street  to-day,  not  sombre  and  sorrowful,  but  fresh  as 
Aurora  and  beautiful  as  Aphrodite,"  said  Eapin. 

"Not  his  wife — not  married  1"  exclaimed  Glump. 


28  THE   HORTONS;   OR 

"I  never  asked  to  see  the  certificate,"  responded 
Rapin. 

Duncan  laughed,  and  thought  he  had  heard  that 
Hulger  had  left  it  at  Cyprus  in  his  travels. 

"Nothing  can  exceed  the  thoughtlessness  of  our 
young  men  in  these  trying  times,"  reflected  Bliggs. 
'•There's  Sherrard  Timmins — breadstuff  Timmius's  son 
— who,  I'm  told,  has  actually  taken  to  writing  poetry ; 
and  I  saw  him  myself  carrying  a  switch  cane  in  busi 
ness  hours.  Ah  1" 

Just  then  there  was  some  cross  talk  about  a  sale  of 
building  lots  on  the  line  of  the  proposed  Slowcut  rail 
way,  and  Scroggs,  who  had  been  sitting  with  closed 
eyes  in  a  highly  developed  state  of  fat  smile,  it  was 
supposed  communing  with  spirits,  relapsed  to  mor 
tality  with  this  sententious  offering  to  the  general 
fund, 

"Wouldn't  give  it — there's  no  money  in  'em  at  that 
price  1" 

Finally,  the  conclave  rose,  the  attorney  rung  in  his 
man  Scipio  with  a  bundle  of  cigars,  and  Rapin  soli 
cited  subscriptions  to  procure  a  silver  spanner  for  the 
Phoenix. 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME. 


29 


CHAPTER   IV. 

Thanks  to  the  human  heart  by  which  we  live, 
Thanks  to  its  tenderness,  its  joys,  and  fears, 

To  me  the  meanest  flower  that  blows  can  give 
Thoughts  that  do  often  lie  too  deep  for  tears. 

WORDSWORTH. 


invalid  with  a  sprained  ancle,  Mr. 
Horton  was  stretched  upon  a  cane 
settee  in  his  piazza  at  Belair.  In 
reaching  to  thrust  aside  a  bough 
which  overshadowed  the  dial,  he  had 
slipped  upon  the  gravel  walk.  In 
this  little,  though  painful  accident, 
what  embryo  vastness  of  casualty. 
"A  simple  sprain!"  quoth  the  reader; 
"anything  short  of  a  luxation  is  a 
personal  affront,  and  a  heroic  nature  would  have  given 
us  a  compound  fracture."  Alas,  that  the  conscientious 
historian  cannot  make  events  at  pleasure,  like  tha 
writer  of  mere  fiction,  and  rise  superior  to  flannel  and' 
opodeldoc. 

Quiet  rested  upon  the  merchant.  Afflictions  spirit 
ualize  virtuous  men ;  and  there  was  nothing  obsequious 
in  the  now  subdued  bearing  of  Mr.  Horton  in  his  inter 
course  with  the  world;  he  walked  invested  with  the 
dignity  of  gentleness.  The  old  roughnesses  were 
3* 


30  THE  HORTONS;   OB 

rasped  down,  and  the  old  bluntness  was  swallowed  in  a 
new  benevolence. 

Emily,  seated  beside  her  father,  was  plying  her 
needle.  Since  she  knew  of  his  difficulties — she  first 
heard  them  from  his  lips  under  the  elms  in  the  serenity 
of  a  bright  Sabbath — her  attendance  upon  him  had 
been  tinctured  with  those  nameless  graces  and  subtle 
amenities  which  make  much  of  the  charm  and  even 
strength  of  domestic  life — so  blossoming  trailers  make 
fast  the  rifted  crag — the  delicate  Corinthian  combined 
with  the  chaste,  fixed  Doric  in  the  family  structure 
when  Cultivation  and  Love  are  the  builders.  Besting, 
she  picked  from  her  work-basket  a  rose,  and  surveyed 
it  musingly. 

It  was  surpassingly  beautiful.  Its  petals  where  they 
started,  from  a  stem  dark  with  excess  of  green  blood, 
were  in  color  alabaster  faintly  incarnadined,  which 
gradually  deepened  to  a  glow  of  gorgeous  crimson 
spread  below  pollen-laden  stamens  of  blush-tinted  am 
ber.  Emily  embraced  its  splendor  and  inhaled  its 
fragrance  with  sensuous  delight. 

"All  the  poetry  it  has  occasioned,  from  the  smooth 
lines  of  Waller  to  the  exquisite  conceptions  of  Eliza 
f  beth  Browning,  is  not  worth  five  minutes  communion 
with  this  September  flower,"  she  said. 

"  'Sultana  of  the  nightingale.' 

And  a  right  queenly  look  it  has." 
"  Fit,  father,  to  have  inspired   the  memory  of  the 
blind.     Aunt  Dinah,  by  the  mill,  will  talk  to  you  all 
the  hour  of  her  old-time  garden  treasures,  with,  What 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME.  31 

a  season  that  was  for  dahlias !  recalling  their  various 
colors,  exhaled  a  score  of  years,  and  painting  now — 
more  poetry — perhaps  the  plumage  of  rare  birds,  or 
Brazilian  butterflies,  or  strange  shapes  of  tropical 
bloom;  and  famous  double  hollyhocks,  that  ran  out  at 
last,  and  tantalize  her  in  dreams." 

"So,  my  dear,  our  great  poet  regrets,  in  that  pathetic 
apostrophe  to  Light  which  has  moved  many  hearts,  that 
to  him  returned  not  the 

'Sight  of  vernal  bloom,  or  summer's  rose.' 

If  there  be  aught  spiritual  in  us,  we  find  our  surest  and 
purest  satisfaction,  under  God,  in  contemplating  nature. 
It  is  then  toil  is  thankful  in  its  strength,  and  pleasure 
penitent." 

"  Often  in  delirium,"  said  Emily,  "  the  mind  wanders 
in  mazes  of  flowers;  and  sometimes  to  the  dying  they 
color  the  dawn  of  the  great  change.  Nature's  fashion 
ing  of  these  glowing,  graceful  shapes  from  the  common 
clod  and  the  impalpable  gases  is  a  daily  miracle  which 
warrants  the  belief  in  a  higher  transfiguration.  Can 
such  impressions  be  glimpses  of  arcana  ccelestia?" 

"Are  like  appearances  produced  by  narcotics?  I 
forget,  and  De  Quincey  sleeps  to  no  earthly  awaken- 
ing." 

"He  could  have  told— perhaps  he  has,"  said  Emily. 
"  My  recollection  of  the  '  Confessions'  is  like  that  of  a 
dream — a  rigid  countenance  ghastly  in  the  play  of 
laudanum  lightnings  from  dark,  cavernous  eyes — a 
gleam  of  candles  falling  upon  a  decanter  and  revealing 
its  ruby  contents,  which,  distilled  through  a  singularly 


32  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

subtle  brain  take  spectral  similitudes  of  faces  terrible 
or  grotesque,  fear-stricken  fugitives  from  disaster, 
majestic  processions,  wreak  and  wretchedness,  and  all 
the  pageantry  of  triumph.  Never  poppies  arnid  the 
friendly  corn  outglowed  his  pages." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"Every  manifestation  of  the  beautiful,"  urged  Emily 
with  enthusiasm,  "which  is  a  blessing  here,  may  be 
such  intensified  hereafter;  and  the  meek  violet  acquire 
to  our  heightened  sensibility  a  supernal  effulgence 
infinitely  surpassing  the  glory  which  we  now  acknow 
ledge  in  the  august  lily  of  Surinam.  And  who  shall 
say  that  color  there,  where  there  is  'no  night,'  is  not  an 
exquisite  musical  expression." 


AMERICAN    LIFE   AT   HOME. 


33 


CHAPTEE    Y. 

As  some  men  gaze  with  admiration  at  the  colors  of  a  tulip,  or  the  wings 
of  a  butterfly,  so  I  was  by  nature  an  admirer  of  happy  human  faces. 

VICAR  OP  WAKEFIELD. 

ERY  enjoyable  were  the  soft,  dreamy- 
autumn  days  at  Belair.  September 
would  yet  a  space  recline  upon  his 
stubble  and  listen  to  the  low  fretting 
of  the  crisp  corn  blades,  the  black 
bird's  call,  and  the  whirr  of  the 
startled  partridge,  or  saunter  with 
his  lazy  zephyrs  in  the  groves;  then 
give  place  to  lustier  October  clad  in 
russet,  who  brings  no  wrinkles  to  the 
year,  but  is  fragrant  with  the  mow,  full  of  bread,  and 
jolly  with  cider.  The  orchards  were  heavy  with  their 
pride  of  spheres,  golden  and  garnet-freaked;  and  from 
wall  and  trellis  drooped  the  clusters  of  the  vine,  a 
repose  of  sunny  purple,  such  as  pretended  by  the  old 
Greek  on  his  canvas  drew  the  festal  clamor  of  the 
birds.  More  enjoyable  to  Emily  that  she  had  much 
of  the  society  of  her  father,  who  for  a  time  could  only 
move  in  a  chair  on  castors,  and  then  with  stick  and 
crutch.  Besides,  Caroline  Mellen  was  spending  several 
weeks  at  Belair. 
4 


34  THE  HOETONS;   OR 

Time  owed  no  spite  to  the  wholesome  lasses. 
rode,  drove,  angled,  trespassed  upon  the  domain  of  tlit 
old  Scotch  gardener  to  his  undissembled  disgust, 
gathered  fruit  and  made  bouquets  for  their  friends  in 
town,  laughed  over  their  schoolday  frolics  and  re 
counted  and  conjectured  the  fortunes  of  their  former 
mates,  stringing  on  the  thread  of  memory  which  they 
held  in  common,  as  it  happened,  beads  black  and  white. 
Among  the  odors  of  the  boudoir  could  be  recognized 
the  aroma  of  new  books,  and  scattered  paper-knives 
might  have  been  collected  in  piazzas,  arbors,  and  other 
retreats.  In  the  evenings  they  played  the  last  music 
for  Mr.  Horton's  pleasure  as  he  reclined  on  a  sofa;  or  a 
social  gathering  was  made  happy  by  the  exuberant 
gaiety  of  Mellen. 

Sometimes  they  drove  to  the  city,  and  mixed  with 
the  blithe  throng  of  the  world.  But  their  regard  was 
not  exhausted  by  the  sprightly  and  modish.  On  one 
of  these  occasions  Emily  called  on  her  mother's  friend, 
Mrs.  Allen,  aad  carried  her  some  pears.  Everything 
about  the  modest  house  was  neat  and  well  kept,  but 
the  decayed  fortune  of  the  family  was  to  be  seen  else 
where  than  in  the  faded  widow's  weeds  of  the  lady. 
Mr.  Allen  had  been  a  merchant  of  worth  and  standing — 
it  was  the  old  story  of  bankruptcy,  unvaried  by  impres 
sive  incidents,  but  not  therefore  the  less  pathetic;  a 
syllable  of  that  solemn  monotone  of  our  busy  Ameri 
can  life.  The  thoughtful  face  of  the  widow  was  still 
delicate,  despite  the  wear  of  more  than  fifty  years.  It 
was  a  Christian's  countenance — calm,  resigned,  and 
sweetly  benevolent.  They  found  her  in  her  little 


AMERICAN    LIFE    AT   HOME.  35 

garden  with  a  neighbor,  who  was  lifting  fron?  its  spot 
of  soil  a  luxuriant  shrub.  Her  husband  had  planted, 
and  for  many  years  she  had  nurtured  it.  She  turned 
to  greet  them,  with  tearful  eyes  and  a  constrained 
smile,  but  their  presence  jarred  the  chords  of  associa 
tion,  already  tense,  and  her  speech  faltered.  "It  was 
his,"  she  said,  "  but  I  cannot  keep  it ;  there  is  no  yard 
where  I  shall  move."  And  bowing  her  head  in  a  burst 
of  grief,  she  passed  with  them  into  the  house. 

Emily's  birth-day  occurred  in  Indian-summer,  the 
vintage-time  of  Solitude,  when,  robed  in  a  tranquil 
glory  of  sun-sublimated  haze,  she  quaffs  her  wine 
among  the  hills  and  is  glad.  Mr.  Horton  insisted,  so  a 
small  party  was  arranged  for  the  occasion. 

There  was  cream  to  be  got  for  freezing  at  Farmer 
Gregg's.  This  worthy  agriculturist  toiled  and  worried 
through  the  seasons  on  his  fruitful  acres,  such  cham 
paign  as  the  tiller  loves,  which  skirted  a  bend  of  the 
Tarnell.  Andrew,  the  gardener,  cheerfully  consented 
to  row  the  ladies.  The  fresh  morning  lay  upon  fields 
of  grass,  and  stubble,  and  shocked  cornstalks,  where  . 
beads  of  dew  trembled  like  quicksilver  in  the  cobwebs. 
A  '"Tis  a  pleasant  lift  the  day.  Miss  Cawroline,  gie 
me  your  hand,  and  step  light  upon  the  gunwaul." 

The  oars  thumped  in  the  row-locks  and  the  boat 
sprang  forward,  with  Emily  at  the  tiller. 

"Luff!  luff  a-lee,  Emily,  or  you'll  shipwreck  us  on 
that  sand-bar,  and  consecrate  it  forever  to  the  elegiac 
muse.  Think  of  our  becoming  newspaper  naiads  in 
one  of  Max  Heyhurst's  effusions!  There  goes  my 


36  THE  HOETONS;   OR 

umbrella!"  and  the  lively  "Cawroline"  reached  over 
board. 

The  boat  dipped  sideways  quick  and  deep,  releasing 
Andrew's  port  oar  as  he  was  bending  to  the  stroke,  and 
sprawling  him  on  his  back.  With  the  bound  of  an 
athlete  the  old  gardener  was  again  upright.  He  con 
templated  the  vivacious  Mellen  with  a  look  of  solemn 
wrath.  His  sense  of  decorum  had  been  outraged  in  its 
entirety.  Slowly  he  spake:  "Seat  you,  Miss,  anent 
Miss  Emily,  and  hold  your  freeskyness,  or  it  will  be  a 
far  cry  to  Belair!" 

The  culprit  answered  nothing,  and  sat  an  edifying 
spectacle  of  contrition.  Presently  she  burst  into  song, 
and  the  ploughman  paused  afield  to  listen  to  "Ettrick 
banks." 

"Aweel,  weel,"  murmured  Andrew;  "'tis  a  bonnie 
sang,"  and  for  a  moment  he  beheld  the  smoke  curling 
above  the  heath-thatched  shielins. 

They  found  Farmer  Gregg  in  tribulation  concerning 
a  dead  horse.  Quite  a  group — the  farmer  and  his  men, 
with  two  or  three  sympathizing  neighbors — surrounded 
the  defunct  quadruped.  The  doctor  also  was  present, 
a  practitioner  without  a  coat,  in  a  broad-brimmed  white 
hat,  gingham  cravat,  and  an  undue  proportion  of  sus 
penders.  His  thoughtful  style  of  sucking  a  straw,  as 
he  contemplated  the  bearings  of  the  case,  was  a  triumph 
of  art,  and  hinted  at  illimitable  hoards  of  veterinary 
wisdom.  All  seemed  duly  impressed  with  this  appear 
ance  of  profundity,  except  the  horse;  so  lately  most 
interested,  but  now  a  breathless  bulk  of  muscle. 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  37 

"Jeemes!"  said  the  farmer,  "take  off  his  shoes.  1 
know'd  it  war'nt  no  use." 

"He'd  be  a  live  hoss  now  if  I'd  been  fetched  in 
time,"  remarked  the  doctor,  with  decision. 

"Think  'twas  the  kolery?"  asked  a  hand. 

"Too  much  fever,"  replied  the  doctor;  "it  was  a 
disease  of  the  wital  innards."  * 

"Bots,  mebbe?'{  pursued  a  speculative  neighbor. 

The  farmer  scouted  the  idea. 

"It  was  all  along  of  the  shootin'  of  the  fish-hawk 
down  in  the  river-field,"  he  declared,  and  there  was 
unshakable  conviction  in  his  tone. 

"What  had  its  nest  in  the  old  hickory?"  asked  the 
speculative  neighbor,  brightening  with  new  light. 

"  Yes,  Billy.  There  was  some  strange  men  gunning 
there  a  week  ago,  and  I  haint  seen  it  since.  It  kind 
o'  worried  me  to  miss  it;  and  when  Mike  was  taken 
with  a  gripin'  like,  I  knowed  it  warnt  no  use:  it  allus 
happens." 

Aunt  Becky,  as  Mrs.  Gregg  was  commonly  called, 
was  in  the  act  of  a  family  baking.  A  brisk  lass  was 
raking  the  coals  from  the  ample  oven,  and  puffed 
batches  of  dough,  pies  knobby  where  slices  of  apple 
bulged  the  crust,  inchoate  rusks,  pippins,  and  ginger 
bread  sweating  molasses  at  every  pore,  were  ready  to 
be  shoved  to  its  hot  inclosure.  Then  there  was  a 
churning  in  the  background — twelve  or  fourteen 
pounds,  Aunt  Becky  said,  as  she  nudged  the  handle 
of  the  well-scoured  barrel.  After  that,  and  dinner, 
and  the  moving  work,  our  housewife  would  put  on  her 
heavy  silver  spectacles  and  ply  her  needle  on  the 
4 


38  THE    HORTONS;   OK 

"men  folks"  clothes,  inspect  and  feed  her  poultry, 
and  look  up  in  the  almanac  the  changes  of  the  moon, 
or  copy  with  slow  labor  from  the  county  newspaper, 
prudently  anticipatory  of  the  afflictions,  a  speedy  cure 
for  cancer,  and  a  remedy  for  the  bite  of  a  mad  dog, 
which  was  never  known  to  fail  when  rubbed  in  well. 
Aunt  Becky  was  hugely  pleased  to  see  her  favorite, 
Emily,  and  in  the  exuberance  of  hfer  spirits  poured 
forth  such  a  multitude  of  orders  and  expostulations 
that  the  bewildered  "help"  looked  wild  in  the  eyes 
and  showed  symptoms  of  derangement.  She  would 
have  them  with  her  to  the  dairy  to  see  the  goodly 
files  of  bright  milk  basins  that  dripped  coolness  and 
showed  a  thick,  unctuous  surface  of  contents,  so  differ 
ent  from  the  pellicle  which  mantles  the  lacteal  supplies 
of  city  cellars.  Then,  to  survey  her  cheeses,  a  tawny 
store  of  curd;  the  hives  and  their  busy  architects; 
the  sleek  young  calves  with  their  blundering  heads, 
clear,  full  eyes,  and  bright  nozzles;  and  her  fatting 
turkeys,  glossy  and  plump  with  a  plethora  of  mush, 
and  happily  ignorant  of  Christmas. 

While  they  were  seated  in  the  rustic  porch  listen 
ing  to  Aunt  Becky's  large  discourse,  a  horseman  came 
racking  up  the  lane.  At  the  runlet  midway,  in  the 
shadow  of  a  beech,  he  drew  bridle  that  his  beast  might 
drink.  The  horse,  a  stalwart  sorrel,  shone  like  satin 
with  good  grooming,  and  as  it  stood  at  ease  with  fora 
limbs  flexed  and  stooped  neck,  quaffing  the  stream, 
it  was  a  study  fit  for  Rosa  Bonheur.  The  rider  was 
stout,  full-bearded,  seemed  faultlessly  attired,  and  sat 
well  in  the  saddle. 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  39 

""Who  on  earth/'  pondered  Aunt  Becky  aloud  after 
a  prolonged  survey,  "can  that  be?  Law  sakes!  if  it 
aint  Mr.  Bloker." 

"Who  lately  bought  the  Smise  farm?"  inquired 
Emily. 

"Yes,  darling,  a  rich  merchant  in  the  city,  with 
ships  that  trades  to  the  Ingies;  and  they  do  say," 
continued  the  old  lady  impressively,  but  with  some 
reservation  in  her  tone  implying  doubt,  "that  he  owns 
an  indigo  mine." 

"He  is  an  acquaintance  of  father's,"  remarked  Emily 
to  her  friend,  "at  whose  request  I  have  invited  him  to 
my  birth- day." 

In  a  little  time  the  visitor,  having  finished-  his 
business,  sauntered  to  the  house.  The  disconsolate 
Gregg,  plucking  his  wristband  diffidently,  performed 
the  introduction — 

"Mr.  Bloker,  mother  and  ladies." 

"Your  servant,  madame,"  responded  Bloker,  raising 
his  hat, — "Miss  Horton's,  and  her  friend's," — pausing 
interrogatively. 

"Miss  Mellen,  sir,"  said  Emily. 

"I  had  the  honor,  Miss  Horton,  to  receive  your 
invitation  through  Mrs.  Klett,  and  I  shall  surely  not 
forget  it." 

Deportment  composed,  tones  bland.  His  unrumpled 
dress  was  an  agreeable  result  of  cultivated  taste. 
Linen  purely  white,  uncreased  patent  leather  boots  of 
a  refulgent  jet,  a  brown  silk  cravat  tied  neglige,  a  vest 
of  unblemished  marseilles,  ample  trowsers  of  light 
cassimere,  and  an  olive-colored  frock,  constituted  it — 


40  TITE    IIORTOXS;    OR 

a  costume  which  was  well  displayed  on  a  musculai 
figure. 

"The  builders  at  my  bachelor's  quarters  deny  me 
possession,  and  I  am  at  present  on  the  bounty  of  Mrs. 
Klett." 

"  I  suppose,  sir,  you  intend  great  improvements." 

"I  mean  to  make  the  place  snug,  if  I  can — a  sort 
of  box,  you  know,  with  comforts." 

"Folks  all  about  is  talking  of  your  water- works," 
remarked  the  old  lady.  "I  think  it  will  be  a  grand 
thing  on  wash-days  in  a  drowth,  when  you  have  to 
haul,  and  lose  half  on't  by  jolting  in  the  ox-cart." 

"Mrs.  Gregg  alludes  to  a  fountain  I  am  contriving," 
lie  explained  with  comical  serenity. 

"Of  course  you  will  christen  your  new  property — 
what  may  we  learn  to  call  it  ?" 

"Eeally,  Miss  Horton,  I  shall  be  fortunate  if  you 
make  me  your  debtor  for  its  christening."  An  un 
pleasant  gleam  about  his  mouth. 

"It  is  impossible,  sir,  from  my  slender  resources 
to  oblige  you  suitably;  Miss  Mellen,"  laughing  and 
gesturing  toward  her  friend,  "has  a  quicker  genius." 

"Now  I  call  that  a  cowardly  shifting  of  respon 
sibility.  I  dare  say  Mr.  Bloker  would  gladly  empty 
his  bottles  over  a  failure  in  izzard  from  you.  But 
stop — 'tis  wise  to  withhold.  You  confess  to  being  a 
bachelor,  sir,  and  for  aught  I  know  you  have  all  the 
faculty  of  fancy  and  satirical  temper  of  Bachelor 
Benedick,  and  can  do  better  a  dozen  times  than  our 
best,  which  would  only  whet  your  sarcasms.  I  grow 
quite  afraid ;  you  shall  have  no  naming  from  me." 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME.  41 

Hospitable  rites  were  not  forgotten  by  the  kind 
hostess.  Upon  the  little  spider-legged  table  in  her 
parlor  she  spread  a  spotless  cloth,  and  placed  regale 
ment  of  currant  wine,  rusks,  and  honey. 

"Aunt  Becky,  I  will  turn  beggar  for  one  of  your 
nice  baked  apples  and  a  bowl  of  milk,"  said  Emily. 

"Bring  a  plate  of  'em,  mother,"  said  the  farmer, 
"mebbe  the  other  folks  would  like.  They  ought  to  eat 
greedy  for  they've  got  a  road  before  them." 

"  Seems  to  me  there's  no  apples  nowadays  will  bake 
as  they  used  to  when  I  was  a  girl,"  observed  Aunt 
Becky,  as  she  placed  the  dish  before  her  guests.  "I 
mind  a  tree  on  father's  place,  that  bore  the  fullest;  a 
goodish-sized,  reddish-streaked  apple,  that  come  out  of 
the  pan  coated  with  a  thick,  rich  jelly,  sweet  as  sugar. 
1  often  think  things  don't  grow  as  they  used  to,  owing 
tu  the  seasons  I  suppose;  and  I'm  sure  people  was  a 
deal  honester  in  old  times,  as  I  told  Jed'diah  only 
yesterday,  when  that  swindlin'  peddler  took  me  in  with 
the  vail." 

"How  did  he  cheat  you,  Aunt  Becky?"  asked  Emily. 

"Why,  he  offered  it  so  cheap,  considering  it  was  real 
lace,  that  I  thought  I'd  buy  it  for  Sairey  Ann.  He 
said  he  got  a  lot  of  'em  in  some  damaged  goods  from  a 
fire  by  mistake,  at  auction  in  the  city,  and  it  cost  five 
dollars  apiece  to  import  them,  and  he'd  let  me  have  one 
for  two  dollars  and  a  quarter,  and  warrant  it.  So  I 
took  it,  and  after  he'd  gone  we  was  examining  it,  and 
Sairey  Ann  found  a  big  hole  in  one  corner  gummed 
over  with  blotting-paper  where  the  ticket  was.  I 
called  out  to  Jed'diah,  who'd  just  come  in,  to  follow  on 
4* 


42  THE  HORTONS;  OB 

at  once  to  the  river  and  make  the  man  take  it  back ; 
but  all  the  horses  was  out  ploughing,  and  when  Jed'diah 
got  to  the  ferry  it  was  too  late." 

"  Well,  mother,  no  such  doings  can  come  to  a  good 
end,"  remarked  the  farmer,  consolingly. 

The  guests  partook  with  heartiness,  though  Mr. 
Bicker's  face  was  thought  to  gloorn  as  he  sipped  the 
wine,  which  might  have  wanted  the  relish  of  Verzenay 
Perhaps  it  was  only  an  intrusion  of  the  indigo  mine. 

"One  sprightly  and  clever;  the  one,  charminglj  ^hy," 
thought  Jacob  Bloker,  as  he  rode  away. 

"  Freezingly  formal,"  summed  up  Caroline. 

"Something  more  disagreeable  ihau  that  ^  tf  <-nk/' 
said  Emily. 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME. 


CHAPTEE   VI. 


like  the  elements, 

That  know  not  what,  nor  why,  yet  do  effect 

Rare  issues  by  their  operance,  our  souls 

Did  so  to  one  another;  what  she  liked, 

Was  then  of  me  approved ;  what  not  condemned, 

No  more  arraignment;  the  flower  that  I  would  pluck, 

And  put  between  my  breasts,  Oh  she  would  long 

Till  she  had  such  another,  and  commit  it 

To  the  like  innocent  cradle,  where  phoenix-like 

They  died  in  perfume. — THE  Two  NOBLE  KINSMEN. 

,  T  is  happiness  to  contemplate  the  attach 
ment  of  two  pure  and  lovely  women. 
The  friendship  of  women  who  live  in 
what  is  called  "society"  is  seldom  so 
sincere  and  enduring  as  is  that  of  those 
who  have  been  reared  and  are  resident 
among  the  scenes  of  nature.  In  cities 
are  jealousy  and  fret,  the  growth  of  a 
forced  rivalry  of  beauty,  manners,  wealth 
and  position.  Nor  is  it  possible  for  even 
persons  of  exalted  culture,  unless  they  are  vitalized  by 
religion,  to  rise  entirely  above  the  influences  of  a  highly 
artificial  condition  of  life,  in  which  "envy  and  deceit 
glare  through  the  flimsy  mask  of  complaisance,  and 
strengthen  in  the  buzz  of  vanity  and  hate."  The  early 
education  of  country  girls  is  pursued  at  home,  and  in 


44  THE  HOETON'S;  OB 

comparative  seclusion.  They  are  morally  and  physi 
cally  strengthened  by  innocent  zests  and  employments. 
Less  exposed  to  rancorous  strife  for  ephemeral  distinc 
tion,  they  are  as  far  exempt  from  the  pangs  of  rivalry, 
and  untempted  to  entertain  its  spites  and  practise  its 
subterfuges.  The  country  girl  does  not  regard  her 
companions  as  obstructions  to  her  shining,  but  as 
enliveners  of  her  quiet  and  regular  existence.  Her 
healthy  impulses  are  not  sacrificed  to  the  tyranny  of 
etiquette,  nor  is  her  personality  lost  in  the  pageantry 
of  fashion.  Her  sound  body  is  a  spring  of  cheerful 
ness;  and  her  mind,  though  happily  ignorant  of  paste 
board  pomps,  is  not  uninformed  of  life's  loftier  purposes. 
The  girlish  joys,  disappointments,  and  movements  of 
country  life  have  been  in  common — the  children  have 
learned  and  played  together  at  the  school-house  in  the 
grove,  and  the  maidens  have  slept  and  risen  together 
under  the  farm-house  roof.  The  gay  world  is  a  stir  of 
strangers  in  which  events  lie  thick,  and  those  separate 
impressions  are  choked  before  they  strengthen  to  dura 
bility  which  in  their  sum  constitute  friendship.  While, 
then,  the  pleasures  of  intellectual  intercourse  are  fullest 
and  freshest  in  the  metropolis,  the  affections  find  kind 
liest  nurture  among  fields  and  woods.  The  civic  best 
of  social  bloom  and  fruitage  is  fed  by  country  roots. 
The  staminal  collapse  of  cities  is  constantly  counter 
acted  by  an  infusion  from  God's  wide  domain,  and  the 
mothers  of  the  belles  who  languish  in  concert  rooms 
and  blanch  at  midnight  routs,  were  cheered  at  their 
labors  by  the  sunrise  choir  of  robins  and  challenged  in 
their  cheeks  the  orchard's  bloom. 


AMERICAN    LIFE   AT   HOME.  45 

Emily  and  Caroline  had  been  trained  companionably, 
like  kindred  shoots,  from  childhood;  though  the  nature 
of  each  had  taken  its  proper  shape  of  development. 
Their  lives  had  been  nourished  generously  by  the  same 
scenes  and  sympathies — they  had  read  the  same  books, 
felt  an  ownership  in  each  other's  household  surround 
ings,  enjoyed  together  the  same  natural  prospects, 
hummed  together  the  same  new  airs. 

Caroline  was  the  daughter  of  a  physician  whose  for 
tune  permitted  him  to  decline  practice  and  devote 
himself  to  scientific  investigation ;  one  of  that  honora 
ble  class  who  "  live  laborious  days,"  giving  time  and 
sacrificing  pleasure  to  the  pursuit  of  physical  truth — 
by  which  the  world  is  profited  so  much,  and  which  it 
thanks  so  little.  The  imagination  of  Dante  would 
have  made  of  her  an  etherial  vision.  She  possessed, 
rarities  it  has  been  said  among  American  women,  a 
classical  bust  and  well-rounded  arms.  Her  head 
reigned  exultant  above  the  luxuriant  loveliness  of 
throat  and  thorax.  The  black  tresses  which  were  shed 
from  her  brow  timidly  returned  to  dally  with  the 
flexure  of  her  white  neck.  Her  eyes  were  not  wells 
of  tenderness — as  they  should  have  been  to  satisfy  an 
orthodox  rapture — but  as  the  humor  was,  sparkled 
with  mirth,  or  flashed  with  scorn  in  glances  that 
trooped  forth  beneath  an  ample  arch  of  forehead,  which 
rose  from  the  shaft  of  a  Grecian  nose.  The  eyelashes 
were  flickering  filamentous  shadow.  The  contour  of 
her  cheeks  was  best  displayed  when  the  heart  showed 
emotionally  in  their  soft  carnation,  and  the  chin,  fairer 


46  THE   HOETONS;    OR 

than  a  turning  in  ivory,  just  trembled  responsive  to 
their  emergent  flush  and  the  compression  of  her  coral 
line  lips.  In  her  unusual  strains,  the  joyfulness  which 
dimpled  round  her  mouth  was  more  jubilant  than  vic 
torious  trumpets. 


AMERICAN    LIFE   AT   HOME. 


CHAPTER   VII. 


Capulet. — Nay,  gentlemen,  prepare  not  to  be  gone: 

We  have  a  trifling  foolish  banquet  towards. 

ROMEO  AND  JULIET. 


HE  tenth  of  November  came  to  teem 
with  placid  merriment.  Away  be 
Meditation  and  her  sober  lessons 
when  Beauty  celebrates  birthday  or 
bridal — stay  for  a  happy  space  the 
hours  that  wear  us  out,  and  make 
them  rich  with  lights,  and  glad  with 
garlands,  and  sounding  with  har 
mony! 

A  gay  company  was  assembled  at 
Bel  air.  Gentlemen  long  and  lean,  gallants  short  and 
solid,  tesselated  the  group  with  ladies  of  equally  vari 
ous  appearance,  though  not  so  common-place;  Mr. 
Brown  was  simply  fat  and  perspired,  but  Miss  Julia's 
rotundity  was  embonpoint,  and — "A  fan,  sir  ?  it  deserves 
my  best  curtsey;  I  protest  spirits  are  contagious  here, 
and  put  one  in  quite  a  glow." 

"'Through  Coron's  lattices  the  lamps  are  bright, 
For  Seyd  the  Pacha  makes  a  feast  to-night.' 

— How. are  you,  Dolman?" 
"Shark- hungry,  Max." 


48  THE   HORTONS;   OB 

'"Sirrah!  go  hire  me  twenty  cunning  cooks,'"  ex 
claimed  Max  Heyhurst,  with  an  affectation  of  generous 
earnestness,  as  he  half-turned  toward  an  astonished  ser 
vant.  "  Ah !"  he  continued,  "you  should  try  the  vir 
tues  of  your  'true  Sherris',  which  means  at  Belair, 
Horton's.  It  is  liquid  amber  infused  with  the  sublima 
tion  of  all  delicate  pungencies,  'pon  my  taste!" 

"  Can't ;  it  would  plague  me  next  morning." 

"A  sad  case,  truly — I  feel  for  you.  Headachey 
myself  after  milk-punch." 

"Milk-punch  is  it  you're  discussing?" 

"Imputatively,  doctor." 

"Incalculable  amount  of  sustenance  in  milk-punch. 
Heard  of  a  sailor  who  was  marooned  on  a  desolate 
island  with  a  tame  goat.  Captain  relented  at  the  last 
moment  so  far  as  to  ask  if  he  could  do  anything  for 
Crusoe  at  parting.  Got  a  request  for  a  puncheon  of 
Santa  Cruz  out  of  the  cargo,  to  be  charged  against 
wages  for  the  round  voyage.  Skipper  acceded.  Limes 
were  indigenous,  and  Crusoe  got  sugar  from  sweet 
grapes.  There  passed  two  years  of  rum,  milk,  and 
meditation — of  choicer  draughts  than  the  Amalthean 
that  nourished  the  infant  god  on  Ida.  Then,  goat 
tumbled  from  a  cliff  into  the  sea  and  was  drowned. 
The  hermit  thrown  upon  Santa  Cruz  neat,  went  off  in 
delirium  tremens.  Before  he  died,  however,  mission 
ary  ship  arrived.  Last  words  were,  'More  punch!'  " 

"If  that  unfortunate  seaman  had  but  lived,  with 
grizzled  hair  and  glittering  eye!"  ejaculated  Max;  and, 
as  he  wiped  a  damp  optic,  he  murmured,  with  reflec 
tive  pathos, 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME.  49 

'It  is  an  ancient  mariner, 
And  he  stoppeth  one  of  three — .' " 

"You  enlarge  upon  sherry  with,  so  much  gust,  Max, 
that  I  am  almost  persuaded  you  are  descended  from 
one  of  the  critics  whom  Cervantes  tells  of,"  said  Dol 
man. 

"Which  one?"  inquired  Max,  gravely. 

"  Well,  there  were  two,  called  to  pronounce  upon  the 
contents  of  a  butt  of  celebrated  Xeres.  One  connois 
seur  lingered  at  the  brim  of  the  glass,  and  immerged 
his  mind  in  the  liquor  at  every  sip.  The  quiet  by 
standers  watched  the  process,  and  glanced  from  the 
taster  to  each  other  admiringly.  But  when  it  was 
announced,  with  emphasis,  that  instead  of  the  true 
vinous  aroma  there  was  a  tang  of  iron,  they  thrust 
their  tongues  into  their  cheeks  and  shrugged  in  deri 
sion.  The  other  judge,  put  to  his  mettle,  deliberated 
long,  while  the  juice  with  pleasant  titillation  lapped 
the  edges  of  his  tongue,  or  he  marked  with  upraised 
eye  its  transparency.  The  spectators  looked  expect 
ant,  as  they  would  say — Now  for  an  opinion  which 
will  make  the  reputation  of  the  vintage!  It  came. 
'Yes,  I  am  dead  sure,'  blurted  number  two,  'the  flavor 
is  of  leather,  if  there  be  a  side  in  Cordova.'  Everybody 
now  laughed  outright,  and  one  or  two  tapped  their 
heads  as  intimating  lunacy,  and  winked  aside.  But 
when  they  pumped  the  wine  from  the  cask  they  found 
a  thong  looped  in  a  rusty  key." 

"That  sherris  sack,  at  least,  had  a  'two-fold  qual 
ity,'  "  commented  Max. 
5 


50  THE   HOETONS;    Oil 

"The  veterans  are  gone,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he 
mopped  his  purplish  visage ;  "you  rarely  meet  even  a 
two-bottle  man  now-a-days.  The  present  generation 
drinks  negus,  and  thinks  itself  heroic;  the  next,  I 
suppose,  will  stagger  under  the  nutmeg-grater." 

"I  admit  your  wit,  doctor,  but  I  object  to  the  sneer," 
said  George  Dolman.  "'I  like  good  wine  well  enough, 
short  of  being  brought  to  grief,  but  I  hold  that  so  far 
as  the  age  is  more  temperate,  it  is  not  only  more  virtu 
ous  and  happy,  but  it  has  more  humor,  mirth,  and 
genuine  gaiety;  for  the  larger  part  of  your  vaunted 
maudlin  humor  is  downright  profanity,  or  grotesque 
conceits,  lacquered  often  with  bawdy.  I  know  well 
that  English  literary  history  is  full  of  tavern  life;  and  I 
grant  that  the  wit  which  everywhere  scintillates  about 
the  Mermaids  and  the  Mitres,  the  Apollos,  Will's, 
and  Button's,  attaches  a  fascination  to  the  localities 
themselves.  And  it  is  the  consecrated  associations  of 
letters  which  prejudice  so  many  educated  men  against 
modern  temperance — which,  as  it  is  preached,  is  some 
times  intemperate  enough — but  the  wit  of  'Rare  Ben' 
and  his  compotators  never  grew  from  the  Canaries  or 
gin;  the  drawee,  never  brought  it  from  the  cellar;  it 
was  only  too  strong  for  the  malt  and  juniper,  and — as 
the  asp-wreathed  arm  of  Cleopatra  was  still  a  limb  of 
beauty — was  wit  in  spite  of  them.  By-the-by,  a  little 
less  brandy -and- water  would  take  nothing  from  the 
flavor  of  some  of  the  most  genial  and  humanizing  of 
our  modern  fiction,  which  has  no  need  to  hiccough  its 
way  to  posterity. 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  51 

' the  lore 

Of  mighty  minds  doth  hallow  in  the  core 
Of  human  hearts  the  ruin  of  a  wall 
Where  dwelt  the  wise  and  wondrous — ' 

So  those  old  taverns  are  open  still.  ,  "While  we  listen 
to  the  talk  of  Templars  at  the  Grecian,  or  of  Garrick 
and  Foote  at  the  Bedford,  we  cannot  hear  the  'bar 
barous  dissonance'  of  the  common  carouse,  and  it  is 
impertinent  to  ask  us  to  sign  the  pledge.  Yet,  valua 
ble  as  they  were,  appointed  though  erring  almoners, 
the  world  could  have  better  spared  the  tipsy  poets  and 
the  tipsy  Persons  than  the  fair  imaginations  and  capa 
cious  intellects  which  they  have  blighted.  Pagan  soci 
ety  fabled  the  drunken  inspiration  of  Silenus,  and  pro 
duced  the  temperate  philosophy  of  Socrates.  I  believe, 
sir,  to  ring  a  change  on  a  famous  saying,  that  hell  it; 
nebulous  with  empty  bottles." 

"Newfangled  notions  crop  so  thick  in  these  latter 
days'  that  I  dare  say  we  are  on  the  verge  of  the  millen 
nium,"  declared  the  doctor,  testily.  "Even  our  poets 
have  got  a  mythology  with  Ganymede  abolished. 
There  was  a  kindly  thirst  in  friendship  before  the  old 
serpent  wriggled  all  his  iniquity  into  the  cork-screw;" 
and,  playing  with  his  glass  ribbon,  he  sauntered  to 
amuse  with  conversational  whimseys  another  knot  of 
talkers. 

Caroline  was  looking  over  some  plates  of  Audubon, 
Imperial  in  vigor  and  fidelity  were  these  representations 
of  the  beautiful  in  nature,  bird-pictures  gathered  from 
a  thousand  miles  of  wilderness  to  delight,  amid  the 
appointments  of  luxury,  fair  women  clothed  in  fine 


52  THE   HOETOXS;    OR 

textures — and  such  is  a  single  aspect  of  civilization. 
Conscious  of  a  presence,  Caroline  raised  her  eyes.  It 
was  Bloker. 

"Now,  there's  a  duck,  Miss  Mellen,  to  gladden  a 
cook's  heart.  With  green  peas,  say,  of  tender  age,  and 
an  apricot  tart?" 

"Yes — a  cook's.  I  fancied  it  nestling  its  glossy 
breast  in  the  desert  waters  of  Labrador.  You  are 
right,  sir,  an  irreproachable  bird  for  larding,  and  deli 
cious  with  olives." 

"  Better  worth  is  a  voyage  from  Europe  to  know  it 
by  the  palate,"  and  Bloker  passed  his  hand  with  uncon 
scious  complacency  along  his  expanse  of  waistcoat, 
"than  a  voyage  thither  to  know  the  Rhine  and  its 
scenery,  the  marvels  of  Rome,  which  I  am  told  is  a 
tumble-down  place,  or  the  bepraised  pictures  and  skies 
of  Florence." 

A  beetle  which  had  been  buzzing  about  the  sconces 
plumped  upon  Caroline's  neck.  The  young  lady  beside 
her  recoiled,  with  a  little  scream — she  was  at  the  Lalla 
Rookh  period  of  maidenhood,  and  sighed  for  Bende- 
meer  bowers  and  nightingales  —  and  Bloker,  with 
praiseworthy  promptitude,  sought  his  pocket-hand 
kerchief.  Caroline  calmly  grasped  and  withdrew  the 
insect,  its  'barbed  feet  vexing  her  white  flesh  to  a 
ruddy  blotch,  and  dropped  it  in  a  vase,  which  sho 
covered  with  some  sheets  of  music. 

"Lay  you  there  in  sepulture,  and  dream  of  old 
Egypt.  Is  that  your  chivalry,  Mr.  Bloker,  to  a  damsel 
in  distress!" 

"Really,  you  are  unjust." 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT   HOME.  53 

"Urgent,  you  mean.  Were  you  merely  thinking  of 
a  vinaigrette  for  Miss  Grayson?" 

"You  don't  seem  to  stagnate  here.  I  hope,  Mr. 
Bloker,  you  find  these  ladies  entertaining/'  said  Emily, 
who  joined  them. 

"Charming." 

"You  hear  that,  bella  donna? 

'How  dangerous  is  it,  that  this  man  goes  loose!' " 

Bloker  coughed, 

"I  think  Mr.  Bloker's  sincerity  needs  no  vindication 
when  he  compliments  Caroline  Mellen  and  her  friend." 

Miss  Grayson's  pleasure  perched  very  prettily  upon 
her  lips. 

"  Exquisite,  Emily ;  but  I  will  disappoint  you ;  you 
shall  have  no  delicious  little  speeches  in  return,  how 
ever  much  you  may. deserve  them — we  will  burn  you 
no  incense,''  replied  Caroline. 

"It  would  be  but  just  homage,"  said  Bloker,  ardently. 
Then,  suddenly  recovering  himself,  he  added,  "if 
homage  were  possible  among  peers." 

''  My  dear  Miss  Horton" — it  was  brisk  little  Doctor 
Pledget — "take  the  word  of  a  patriarch,  who  has  no 
account  in  flattering  when  he  declares  you  to  be  as 
blooming  as  Hygeia,  and  is  ready  to  meet  in  mortal 
combat  any  recreant  knight  who  disputes  it — with  a 
thumb  lancet,"  and  the  doctor  put  himself  ludicrously 
atilt. 

"I  am  proud,  doctor,  to  have  such  a  formidable 
champion — it  completes  my  happiness,"  replied  Emily. 

"If  he  were  less  like  still  Champagne  to-night;  I 
6* 


54  THE   HORTONS;    OB 

don't  question  the  bouquet,  but  we  miss  the  efferves 
cence,"  urged  the  mocking  Caroline. 

"Miss  Mellen  will  impute  my  gravity  to  a  sermon  I 
was  forced  to  listen  to  this  morning  as  a  director  of  a 
charity,  and  which  was  not  in  the  manner  of  Jeremy 
Taylor ;  and  to  too  much  roast  beef  at  dinner  to  satisfy 
exhausted  nature  after  the  effort  of  attention.  Melan 
choly  meat,  if  we  believe  Galen." 

"For  a  contrite  countenance,  now  and  then,  I  would 
pension  you  liberally  with  dull  sermons." 

"Abandon  the  intention,  my  dear  Miss  Mellen,  and 
I  will  never  transgress  to  levity  again.  But  there  is 
enough  in  contrast  here  to  make  an  old  fellow  like  me 
a  little  sad.  The  exultant  teens,  and  the  crowning 
triumph  of  twenty,"  inclining  toward  Emily,  "and 
sounding  life  before,  like  a  majestic  march  of  heralds. 
Even  the  hurried  flow  of  my  shrunk  veins  reminds  me 
or  spent  forces  by  the  feebleness  of  the  wave.  I  am  a 
long  link  between  knee-breeches  and  the  electric  tele 
graph.  Like  a  quaint  old  coin  slipped  from  a  bank 
rupt  collector,  I  show  odd  among  the  bravery  of  the 
new  mintage,  but  I  have  lost  fixed  rate,  and  they 
higgle  about  my  value  at  the  shops.  My  'babes  of 
memory'  are  now  children  of  the  wood,  and  each  year 
adds  to  their  covering  of  dead  leaves.  But  what  last- 
will-and-testament  stuff  is  this !  Fill  my  snuff-box  and 
shut  me  up  with  the  beetle,  fair  gaoler,  for  I  believe  I 
am  only  fit  to  sneeze  away  my  remnant  of  life." 

"I  thought,  doctor,  when  I  saw  you  the  other  day 
at  the  steamboat  pier  with  a  lady,  that  you  might  be 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  55 

looking  to  matrimony  as  a  refuge  from  your  'sea  of 
troubles/  "  observed  Bloker. 

"Steamboat  pier? — old  lady,  with  two  bandboxes?" 

"When  the  pedler  nearly  jostled  you  into  the  river." 

"  By  the  libeled  Cupid !  spinster  aunt — Israelite,  who 
wanted  me  to  buy  a  watch — made  her  debut  before  the 
last  war  with  Great  Britain,  in  the  time  of  turret  head 
dresses,  and  part  of  the  beauty  Packenham  threatened 
at  New  Orleans." 

"A  striking  group  for  an  artist,"  said  Caroline. 
"How  should  you  name  it,  now?" 

"  'The  Finding  of  Moses,'  I  suppose.  Am  I  so  very 
gray,  Miss  Mellen?" 

"Just  white  enough  in  your  beard  to  sanction  your 
role  of  the  venerable — and,  doctor,  permit  me  to  say  it 
is  a  beard  worthy  of  a  Bedouin.  I  fancy  you  a  sheik, 
scouring  the  desert  on  a  fiery  barb,  and  followed  by  a 
band  in  burnoozes." 

"Perish  every  hair  if  I  must  be  conjured  to  such  an 
unseemly  shape.  No :  patriotism  forbid ;  to  say  noth 
ing  of  religion." 

"Apropos  of  beards.  What  becomes  of  the  trade- 
fallen  barbers,  doctor?" 

"I  hardly  know.  They  don't  take  to  suicide,  and 
cut  their  own  throats:  though  I  have  noticed  a  ten 
dency  among  them  to  go  mad,  and  open  wide  ways 
with  their  razors  for  the  lives  of  other  people.  Perhaps 
they  emigrate;  or  get  prudently  run  over  and  go  into 
hospitals;  or,  as  a  last  resource  of  garrulous  destitution, 
edit  the  Sunday  newspapers.  Ah!  Mr.  Davenport,  I 


56  THE   IIORTOXS;    OB 

am  glad  to  see  you.  Well  out  of  your  ailments;  I 
hopev?" 

"Why,  no,  doctor;  there's  still  a  sinking  here;"  and 
the  old  clerk  placed  his  hand  upon  his  stomach. 

"An  excellent  symptom,  my  dear  sir,  if  you  sink 
enough  there,"  responded  Pledget. 

"You  don't  think  it  pulmonary?  Ours  is  a  cancer 
family." 

"No,  my  dear  fellow;  no  bellows  to  mend,"  and  the 
doctor,  with  a  nicer  regard  to  anatomy,  tapped  Daven 
port  above  the  bulge  of  his  buff  waistcoat. 

"Perhaps,  doctor,  Mr.  Davenport's  disease  is  of  the 
type  of  inward  bruises  apt  to  afflict  middle-agod 
bachelors,"  suggested  Mr.  Horton. 

"Eh,  love?" 

"The  lady  is'nt  invoiced  yet,"  sententiously  averred 
the  patient. 

"So,  so,  when  the  article  is  wanted  we  will  order  a 
Creole  beauty  to  be  forwarded,  with  a  cargo  of  sugar, 
from  Porto  Rico  or  Barbadoes,"  said  Caroline. 

"I  have  known  two  or  three  of  those  expensive 
exotics,  Miss  Mellen;  who  were  proud  as  Lucifer, 
capricious,  and  pretty  enough  to  •  the  turn  of  twenty- 
five,  when  they  ran  to  gamboge  complexions  and 
ear-rings,  and  delighted  in  monkeys  and  macawc." 

"It's  odd  how  likings  differ,"  philosophized  Daven 
port.  "I  knew  a  bookkeeper  of  a  romantic  turn  of 
mind,  in  the  China  trade — we  called  him  Nankeen 
Fortescue,  because  in  warm  weather  he  always  wore 
trowsers  of  that  stuff,  and  pumps — who  would  get 
quite  hot  asserting  the  charms  of  the  female  portraits 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  57 

on  the  tea-caddies.  I  saw  him  the  very  day  he  died, 
of  an  apoplexy,  opening  some  cases  of  crapes  in 
August,  the  windows  shut  to  keep  out  the  dust," 
continued  the  old  clerk,  with  a  touch  of  pathos  in 
his  tone. 

"Talking  of  love,  doctor;  how  will  you  define  it?" 
asked  Mr.  Horton. 

"  One  may  spend  a  great  deal  of  fine  talk  in  trying, 
and  know  less  of  it  at  the  end  than  his  cook  and 
coachman.  It  is  in  the  mind,  and,  free  of  all  other 
control,  is  servant  to  its  own  conception,  which  it 
holds  precious  beyond  all  other  values.  It  is,  when 
at  its  purest,  the  highest  placidity  below  that  of 
heaven  diffused  about  an  imperial  image,  which 
creates,  and  in  which  is  concentred,  hope  and  happi 
ness.  It  is  a  pervading  something  which  is  electrical, 
exploits,  and  explodes." 

"And,  like  lightning,  never  strikes  the  same  people 
twice  the  sanr,  day?"  demurely  questioned  Caroline 
Mellen. 

The  doctor  continued. 

"Love  working  in  the  blood  may  be  a  spell  of  tame- 
ness,  or  of  turbulence.  The  same  passion  which  made 
Max  Piccolomini,  in  Schiller's  play,  long  to  exchange 
the  crimson  laurel  for  the  first  March  violet  plucked 
in  familiar  fields,  when  distorted  to  jealousy,  has 
pointed  many  a  stiletto.  You  remember  Gibbon's 
description  of  his  Lausanne  flame,  the  excellent  .Made- 
moiselle  Curchod — afterwards  Keeker's  wife  and  the 
mother  of  De  Stael — it  is  in  the  same  stately  strain 
which  he  employs  when  depicting  the  Antonines — 


58  THE   IIORTOXS;    OR 

and  how  his  love  was  'the  union  of  desire,  friendship, 
and  tenderness,  inspired  by  a  single  female;'  yet  its 
disappointment  does  not  seem  to  have  at  all  disturbed 
the  evenness  of  his  after  life.  If  Coleridge's  love  was 
up  to  the  measure  in  'Genevieve,'  what  a  long  reach 
was  it  above  that  of  the  historian!  Indeed,  the  poet 
sings  his  own  rapture; 

'You  stood  before  me  like  a  thought, 
A  dream  rerhember'd  in  a  dream. 
But  when  those  meek  eyes  first  did  seem 
To  tell  me,  Love  within  you  wrought — 
0  Greta,  dear  domestic  stream !' " 

"  The  sudden  transition  in  the  last  line  is  natural 
and  pleasing,"  said  Caroline. 

"  An  instinctive  criticism,"  observed  Mr.  Horton, 
bnnteringly. 

The  doctor  smiled,  and  continued. 

"  So,  with  women  the  climate  of  love  may  vary. 

'They  are  but  beggars  that  can  count  their  worth,' 

exclaims  the  impassioned  Juliet.  There  have  been, 
I  dare  say,  ladies  less  ardent.  The  black-eyed  of 
Andalusia  and  the  blue-eyed  of  the  Elbe  woo  and 
are  won  with  a  difference.  Perhaps  it  is  this  diversity 
of  its  manifestation  which  tempers  and  restrains  the 
passion.  Emigration  and  conquest  merge  nationalities, 
correct  the  redundant  characteristic  of  one  people  by 
an  infusion  of  its  converse  from  another,  and  preserve 
a  general  balance." 

"Beyond  doubt,"  said  Mr.  Horton,  "the  love  of  the 
sexes  is  the  perfection  of  mere  human  bliss;  that  love 
which  when  wedded  is  pure,  and  sanctified  before 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOJTS.  59 

God  and  angels;  upon  the  happy  bed  of  which  the 
sword  of  the  Spirit  severs  from  all  lust,  and  the 
bower  in  Paradise  'showered  roses.'" 

"You  called  love  electrical,  doctor,  and  you  mean, 
I  suppose,  love  at  first  sight.  If  it  be,  heaven  hinder 
a  multitude  of  modern  marriages!" 

"  Yea,  and  amen.  I  don't  profess  to  know  more  of 
the  human  heart  than  did  Shakespeare.  The  ill- 
starred  pair  of  'Fair  Verona,'  and  Ferdinand  and 
Miranda  surrendered  to  each  other  at  the  instant,  and 
neither  of  the  ladies  stipulated  for  pin-money." 

"But  Beatrice,  while  inspiring  with  angelic  visions 
the  great  poet  of  Italy,  did  not  surrender  to  him," 
rejoined  Caroline. 

'•  I  believe  Beatrice  to  have  been  a  lusus  naturae — 
she  was,  at  least,  an  Italian  blonde,"  said  the  doctor, 
laughing. 

"  /  cry  out  with  Eosalind,  '  O  how  full  of  briers  is 
this  working-day  world!'"  jested  Caroline. 

"Love  in  the  heart,  though  profound  and  hidden, 
is  all  graceful  inflexions,  like  the  wash  of  the  lower 
sea  in  the  windings  of  a  shell."  The  speaker  was 
Emily,  who  had  paused  to  listen  in  passing. 

"  Splendid  image  1"  attested  Bloker,  with  sentimental 
fervor. 

"Or,  not  to  stray  from  the  shell,  love  is  like  a  coal 
of  fire  on  the  back  of  a  tortoise,"  said  Caroline. 

"  Or  like  quicksilver,  which  eludes  the  grasp  of  the 
living  and  will  rest  in  a  dead  man's  hand,"  added 
Doctor  Pledget,  tapping  his  snuff-box. 


60 


THE   HORTONS;    OB 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

" what  do  ye  call  the  place? 

A  plague  upon't — it  is  in  Gloucestershire." 

HENRY  IV. 


-BOUT  thirty  miles  from  Belair  was 
the  residence  of  Mr.  Crosby,  who  was 
well  known  through  all  the  country 
side.  A  considerable  estate,  which 
had  descended  to  him  through  seve 
ral  generations  of  Crosbys,  was  care 
lessly  cultivated,  as  the  broken 
fences,  grass-grown  middles,  and 
rusty  tools  abundantly  declared.  In 
reality,  the  daughter  of  the  proprie 
tor,  Adelaide,  was  both  master  and  mistress  of  the 
premises.  She  bought  the  necessaries,  household  and 
farming,  settled  the  accounts,  cut  the  garments,  and 
mixed  the  physic  of  the  working  people,  did  the  busi 
ness  correspondence,  overlooked  the  condition  of  the 
cattle  as  well  as  of  the  pantry,  and  gave  the  overseer 
such  general  instructions  as  he  received.  And  she 
exercised  this  authority  because  Mr.  Crosby  was  so 
eccentric  as  to  be  a  little  mad,  and  his  helpmeet  was  a 
hippish  invalid. 

Walter  Crosby  when  a  young  man  was  celebrated 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  61 

for  strength  and  comeliness;  which,  inasmuch  as  he 
was  the  inheritor  of  many  acres,  made  him  a  favorite 
theme  of  speculation  with  matrons  possessed  of  mar 
riageable  daughters.  His  understanding  was  fair,  and 
it  was  cultivated  to  the  respectable  standard  of  collegi 
ate  requirements,  perhaps  beyond,  for  he  was  fond  of 
books.  A  year  or  two  of  European  travel  enlarged 
his  views,  and  invested  him  with  gracefulness  of 
deportment.  He  married,  and  entered  prosperously 
and  hopefully  upon  life.  "With  health,  possessions,  an 
inquisitive  disposition,  and  the  invigorating  employ 
ments  and  exercises  of  the  field,  nothing  seemed  want 
ing  to  promote  his  happiness.  But  man's  mind  refuses 
to  conform  to  fortune;  and  perhaps  a  portion  of  adver 
sity  would  have  kept  his  in  ballast.  When  Mr.  Crosby 
cast  loose  from  rational  habits,  he  persisted  in  his  fox 
hunting.  A  change  of  manners,  made  by  a  new  class 
of  population,  had  left  among  remembered  things  the 
meet  of  gentry,  of  whom  some  were  dead  and  some 
were  old ;  and  a  few  small  farmers  and  country  idlers 
had  succeeded  to  the  sport.  To  join  these,  when  he 
was  in  the  mood,  implied  no  hospitality  to  be  received 
or  returned.  Abandoning  the  society  of  his  family 
and  his  neighbors,  renouncing  the  world  and  books,  he 
lived  separately  with  his  hounds,  and  lavished  upon 
them  and  a  couple  of  favorite  hunters  the  whole  sum 
of  his  attentions.  A  hale,  grizzled  man,  of  slovenly 
appearance,  stagnant  except  in  physical  vigor,  he 
reigned  the  monarch  of  a  kennel. 

To  the  left  of  the  avenue   which   approached   the 
mansion  was  an  old  brick  chapel,   very  homely,  nes- 
6 


62  THE   HORTONS;   OB 

tied  in  a  grove  of  buttonwoods;  the  Crosbys  had  been 
Catholics  since  colony  times.  It  was  a  quiet  spot  for  a 
dreamer  on  a  calm  autumn  day,  where  he  might  blow 
at  ease  bubbles  of  fancy,  or,  reclined,  watch  through 
the  rifts  of  the  half  leafless  trees  the  fleecy  cumulus  shift 
ing  in  the  blue  cope  above,  and  listen  to  the  cattle 
audibly  feeding  around. 

The  grounds  were  well  shaded,  and  there  was  a 
garden,  which  exhibited  traces  of  former  taste  and  care, 
despite  crumbling  terrace  and  ragged  espalier.  Still 
there  were  efforts  at  amendment,  sincere  and  satirical, 
where  a  piece  of  ladder,  masked  in  whitewash,  closed  a 
gap  in  the  fence,  or  a  decayed  trellis  leaned  helplessly 
on  the  rough-hewn  support  of  a  rail.  Even  in  the 
vegetable  garden,  the  weediness  of  the  spaces  and  rank- 
ness  of  the  thistles,  and  beyond  all  the  tardy  locomotion 
of  Ned,  the  guardian  of  the  spot,  an  aged  negro  who 
might  have  been  inoculated  with  rheumatism  in  his 
sable  infancy  and  have  never  recovered,  he  was  so 
cramped  and  gnarled,  suggested  slender  asparagus  and 
early  peas  at  midsummer.  The  mouldering  roof  of  the 
ice-house,  upon  which  perched  a  peacock,  was  patched 
with  a  thatching  of  cornstalks;  and  its  door,  which 
hung  by  a  solitary  strap,  was  kept  in  place  by  props 
The  weather-beaten  martin-box,  conspicuously  aloft, 
from  which  the  birds  were  gone  for  the  season,  looked 
ripe  for  the  Limbo  of  outworn  things.  Nothing  was 
needed  to  make  this  dreariness  a  charm  but  a  tough- 
constitutioned  October  rain.  A  half-grown  cadet  of 
the  family  and  a  ragged  cub  of  a  companion  were  pry 
ing  for  rats  in  the  foundation  of  an  old  chimney, 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  63 

assisted  by  a  truculent  terrier,  which  they  alternately 
cursed  and  encouraged  by  the  name  of  Brandy. 
Through  the  centre  of  the  house  ran  a  hall  wide 
enough  for  the  passage  of  a  wagon,  on  each  side  of 
which  the  ample  rooms,  deep  wainscoted,  subsided  in 
capacious  recesses  of  chimneys,  where  had  blazed 
many  a  hospitable  fire.  But  the  paint  was.  very  dingy, 
and  the  cracked  panes  were  unseemly  with  an  eruption 
of  putty.  The  occupants  expelled,  ghosts  might  have 
revelled  there  of  gusty  nights  to  the  clatter  of  the 
broken  lightning-rods — it  was  just  the  building  for 
town  boys  to  play  in  and  remember  all  their  lives.  At 
this  weather-tinted  mansion  Emily  and  Caroline,  on  a 
visit  to  Adelaide  Crosby,  were  now  arrived. 

An  old  negro,  hight  Jake,  shambled  from  the  region 
of  the  offices,  and  with,  ceremonious  scraping  proceeded 
to  distribute  his  attentions  between  the  horses,  the 
guests,  and  his  individual  legs.  He  was  much  molested 
by  fleas  upon  a  tender  cuticle,  which  he  entrapped  with 
twine  ligatured  about  his  trowsers,  dexterously  secur 
ing  them  at  the  barriers. 

As  no  one  appeared  to  receive  the  ladies,  Jacob  was 
questioned.  It  was  useless  to  ask  for  Mr.  or  Mrs. 
Crosby,  so,  Where  was  Miss  Adelaide? 

"Young  Missus'  gwon  to  Mr.  Steve  Loyd — him  child 
dead." 

"Is  there  nobody  at  home  but  Mrs.  Crosby?'' 

"Missuses  aunt's  yer." 

"Well,  let  her  know  some  friends  are  come,"  said 
Emily,  alighting. 

"Tell  Susan  jemediate,  Missus,"  and,  with  an  obei 
sance,  Jacob  was  off. 


64  THE  HORTONS;   OR 

Susan  shortly  presented  herself  and  ushere'd  the  vis 
itors  into  the  house,  and  was  followed  in  due  season  by 
"Missuses  aunt,"  a  shrivelled  old  lady  in  black,  wear 
ing  a  cap  which  glowed  with  a  profusion  of  ribbon, 
and  which  was  set  in  the  exigence  of  the  occasion 
slightly  awry.  The  dame  made  a  stately  bow,  which 
the  visitors  appropriately  returned. 

"  We  are  sorry,  ma'am,  not  to  find  Adelaide  at  home, 
but  suppose,  from  what  the  servant  said,  that  she  will 
soon  return." 

"  'Nan  ?"  responded  the  old  lady,  with  a  hand  to  her 
ear. 

Emily  repeated  the  substance  of  her  remark.       f 

"  'Na — an  ?"  again,  with  a  tremor  of  excitement. 

Evidently  an  auricular  defect.  Emily,  in  despair, 
urged  her  friend  to  an  essay.  With  a  preliminary 
inflation  of  the  lungs,  Caroline  enunciated  this  striking 
observation — 

"Delightful  weather  to-day,  ma'am." 

"Yes;  I've  heerd  of  several  cases — I  hope  it  isn't 
ketching,"  replied  the  old  lady,  with  briskness. 

.  "  I  hope  not,"  exclaimed  Caroline,  seized  with  a  sud 
den  freak  which  she  knew  she  could  indulge  in  unde 
tected. 

"  So  the  doctors  say,"  returned  the  matron,  with  the 
promptness  of  an  answering  battery,  "  but  I  don't  put 
much  dependence  in  them.1'  Her  look  of  lofty  incre 
dulity  was  sufficient  to  crush  the  whole  college  of  phy 
sicians. 

The  arrival  of  Adelaide  Crosby  terminated  this  ludi 
crous  practise  with  cross-purposes. 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  65 

"I  have  been,"  she  said,  "to  see  the  wife  of  a  labor 
ing  man  who  lives  near,  and  whose  child,  an  infant, 
died  yesterday.  I  promised  to  go  again  this  afternoon, 
but  I  will  send  and  excuse  myself." 

"Certainly  not;  on  the  contrary,  if  you  will  allow 
us,  we  will  go  with  you." 

"  I  am  to  take  some  necessaries.  I  must  get  ice,  and 
we  have  none — have  suffered  provokingly  all  summer 
for  want  of  it." 

"Yet,  if  I  recollect,  last  winter  was  very  cold/'  re 
marked  Emily. 

"Yes;  our  pond  was  frozen,  but  it  was  infested  with 
muskrats,  and  the  darn  having  been  neglected  they 
gnawed  through  it  and  let  out  the  water,  when  the  ice 
fell  into  the  mud  and  was  lost." 

Loyd's  house  was  in  the  skirts  of  a  wood,  and  was  a 
comfortable  cabin  of  moderate  size,  which  derived  from, 
the  sylvan  surroundings  an  air  of  picturesqueness. 
Upon  the  rough  stone  chimney  which  buttressed  the 
house  were  hung  some  calabashes  above  a  slab  bench, 
the  stand  of  a  piggin  and  kitchen  utensils.  The  well, 
with  its  low  wooden  curb  and  long  sweep  of  pole,  was 
near  at  hand.  A  stone's  throw  off  the  cow  was  ruminating 
in  an  open  byre.  By  the  door-sill  a  dog  lay  blinking 
in  the  sun,  heedless  of  the  efforts  of  a  flaxen-haired 
little  girl  to  rouse  him  to  a  sportive  humor. 

In  a  contiguous  lot  belonging  to  Loyd  was  an  an 
cient  burial  ground,  which  had  been  used,  perhaps,  in 
the  early  days  of  the  settlement  by  some  family  now 
scattered  or  extinct.  It  occupied  a  knoll  which  was 
topped  by  a  wide- spreading  walnut  tree,  and  the  heaped 


66  THE  HOKTONS;   OB 

turf  of  the  old  graves,  still  marked  in  places  by  unpre 
tending  lichen-covered  stones,  had  subsided  below  the 
general  level  into  shallow  cavities  where  the  grass  grew 
ranker  and  greener.  -Here,  with  mattock  and  spade, 
Stephen  Loyd  was  sternly  at  work.  Upon  a  swelling 
of  root  sat  his  eldest  son,  a  lad  of  thirteen,  with  his 
thoughtful  face  rested  on  his  hands.  The  Loyds  were 
poor. 

That  night,  while  the  mother  of  the  buried  babe  lay 
wrestling  with  her  grief,  the  schoolmates  blithely  lived 
again  the  past.  After  next  day's  dinner,  at  which  was 
served  a  Brahmapootra  brought  by  "Missuses  aunt'' 
to  stock  with  exclusive  poultry  the  Crosby  domain, 
and  which  had  been  slain  in  the  general  inattention  by 
a  blundering  scullion,  like  any  dunghill  fowl,  the 
Belair  ladies  departed. 

In  a  wooded  dell  on  the  grounds  of  Mr.  Horton  there 
gushed  a  hill-side  spring,  cool  and  limpid,  which  was 
bordered  with  rustic  seats.  It  was  a  place  where 
Retirement  might  nestle  and  pensively  muse  away 
the  hours,  sobered  by  the  hue  of  evergreens,  and 
startled  only  by  the  rustling  of  the  leaves,  the  little 
stir  of  rabbit  or  squirrel,  and  the  crackle  of  the  bird- 
molested  brambles.  One  morning  the  ladies  were 
seated  there  after  a  ramble,  and  occupied  with  theii 
respective  fancies,  when  Caroline  exclaimed,  "  Here  is 
Bradley!" 

Emily  raised  her  eyes,  beheld  him  descending  the 
slippery  path,  and  started  quickly  to  welcome  him. 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME. 


67 


CHAPTEK   IX. 


'Twas  twilight,  for  the  sunless  day  went  down 

Over  the  waste  of  waters;  like  a  veil, 

"Which,  if  withdrawn,  would  but  disclose  the  frown 

Of  one  whose  hate  is  masked  but  to  assail; 

Thus  to  their  hopeless  eyes  the  night'was  shown 

And  grimly  darkled  o'er  their  faces  pale 

And  the  dim  desolate  deep — twelve  days  had  .Fear 

Been  their  familiar,  and  now  Death  was  here. — DON  JPAW. 

KADLEY  HOKTCXN"  had  not  apprised 
the  family  at  Belair  of  his  intention  to 
return  from  his  travels.  The  omission 
to  write  was  a  caprice,  and  a  happy 
one  which  prevented  much  painful 
suspense.  The  Icaria,  in  which  he 
sailed  from  Europe,  never  reached  its 
American  port. 

Sometimes  in  the  calms  of  after  life 
did  Bradley  mentally  recall  the  inci 
dents  and  impressions  of  those  days  at  sea — the  joyous 
company  flushed  with  anticipations  of  affection,  busi 
ness,  and  pleasure;  the  lapse  of  placid  hours;  the  grate 
ful  stimulus  of  new  and  various  acquaintanceship ;  the 
serenity  of  sky  and  ocean;  the  discipline  of  unac 
customed  movement  aboard;  the  spouting  of  distant 
whales;  flocks  of  flying-fish  scudding  before  the  raven- 


68  THE  HORTONS;   OB 

ous  bonito;  and  the  impetuous  charge  of  porpoises 
across  the  bows,  black  and  furious  legions,  leaping  and 
plunging,  now  sunk  then  seen,  beating  a  long  track  of 
foam  against  the  wind  in  the  gray  waste;  the  lazy 
regularity  of  meals;  the  dreamy  satisfaction  of  the 
after-dinner  cigar;  music  by  moonlight,  and  books  and 
cards  in  the  snug  saloon;  and  then — the  sudden  fury 
of  the  storm! 

And  then,  eventful  days  and  nights  of  fearful  peril. 
How  the  brave  ship  struggled  and  shuddered  in  the 
turmoil,  and  still  went  on  with  "  solemn  face"  against 
the  angry  waters!  How  would  have  sunk  the  din  of 
hostile  navies  in  that  great  symphony  of  wind  and 
wave!  The  blast,  misty  with  spray,  swept  upon  the 
leaning  ship.  The  billows,  gathered  in  swells  of 
hundreds  of  feet  in  breadth,  bore  it  upon  their  undula 
tions  buoyantly  as  a  cork,  or  broke  along  the  bulwarks, 
sending  a  throb  through  every  timber,  and  jarring  to 
its  iron  heart,  which  still  beat  on  in  slow  pulsations. 
Then  there  was  a  lull. 

"Wild  weather,"  said  the  captain  cheerily,  "but  it 
has  blown  its  worst — look  to  the  ladies." 

Anxious  faces  lightened;  faces  before  serious  over 
open  Bibles  retained  no  vestige  of  the  text  in  their  new 
assurance.  Some  of  the  most  timid  ventured  pleasant 
ries,  and  talked  of  hunger;  and  waiters  stumbled  about 
with  trays  of  biscuits  and  cold  meat. 

The  pause  in  the  gale  was  short.  Again  the  blasts 
burst  appallingly,  and  goaded  anew  the  watery  onset. 
A  rumor  spread — muttered,  but  more  distinctly  heard 
than  the  shrill  cordage-— of  a  discovered  leak.  The  few 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME.  69 

passengers  who  cowered  and  clung  on  deck  searched  for 
evidence  of  disaster  in  the  captain's  unimpassioned  face, 
and  searched  in  vain.  Soon  apprehension  became  cer 
tainty;  mattresses  and  blankets  for  the  breach  were 
passed  below.  The  pumps  were  worked  to  their 
utmost  capacity.  Still  the  water  gained.  Tubs  were 
rigged,  and  the  tackle  manned  by  passengers  and  crew. 
Gangs,  relieving  each  other,  worked  day  and  night 
unceasingly.  Still  the  water  gained.  It  rose  upon  the 
furnaces  and  hissed  among  the  fires.  The  force  of  the 
engine  ebbed  like  the  breath  of  a  dying  mastodon; 
then,  with  a  shiver,  the  strong  limbs  were  still.  The 
ship,  but  half  owning  her  helm,  wavered  and  pitched 
ominously.  Men  were  hurled  overboard  with  the 
wrecked  spars  which  they  strove  to  clear.  As  if 
envious  of  the  elements,  disease  came,  swift  and  fell,  to 
its  banquet.  The  unshrouded  victims  of  cholera,  with 
no  funeral  service  but  the  clamor  of  the  storm — half  a 
score  a  day — were  buried  in  the  sea.  Steadily— with 
hopeful  Christian  steadiness,  a  few  awaited  death; 
others  were  stoically  dumb.  Some  were  drunk  with 
fear,  wildly  appealing  to  heaven  to  bridle  the  ruthless 
winds,  or  silent  and  blanched  as  the  dead. 

Once  more  the  gale  subsided;  but  it  was  plain  the 
ship  would  soon  go  down.  At  daylight  on  the  sixth 
morning  preparation  was  made  to  launch  the  boats. 
There  was  still  discipline,  which  was  due  to  the  firm 
ness  of  the  commander,  but  the  moment  of  final  test 
was  come,  and  vehemence  and  distrust  swelled  threaten 
ingly,  when  arose  an  eager  cry — "A  sail!"  and  within 
the  same  hour  another — "Sail  ho!"  The  vessel  which 


70  THE    HORTONS;   OR 

was  first  seen  bore  down  upon  them,  and  proved  to  be 
a  barque. 

"We  are  sinking — will  you  stand  by  us?" 

"Aye,  aye!  while  I  can  float — Men!  give  them  three 
cheers." 

And  the  brave  shouts,  heard  above  the  sullen  tumult 
of  the  sea,  thrilled  sturdy  hearts  with  hope  and  thank 
fulness,  as  suddenly  turned  from  its  ebb  the  tide  of 
life;  and  some  shouted  in  return,  and  some  sobbed  out 
right.  Now  God  bless  all  true  sailor  men ! 

That  evening,  at  Belair,  before  a  cheerful  blaze — the 
weather  had  changed  and  rain  came  down  in  gusts — 
there  was  gathered  a  united  family.  The  manner  of 
Mr.  Horton  was  unwontedly  serene  and  tender;  Emily 
was  earnest  and  fond ;  and  the  gaiety  of  Caroline  was 
subdued  to  a  sober  and  silent  satisfaction,  for  "  there  is 
a  joy  in  which  the  stranger  intermeddleth  not." 

Bradley  talked  of  his  perils  on  the  ocean,  while  the 
wind  wrestled  with  the  trees  and  shook  the  casements. 
Jt  was  observed  that  he  dwelt  with  enthusiasm  upou. 
the  heroic  demeanor  of  a  Miss  Bardleigh.  When  the 
others  had  retired,  Emily  still  lingered  with  her  brother. 
Leaning  upon  his  chair-back  she  listened  rapt,  or  ques 
tioned  to  provoke  talk.  The  clock  in  the  hall  had 
struck  midnight,  in  familiar  tones  which  the  traveller 
joyfully  heard  once  more,  when  they  separated. 

Andrew,  the  gardener,  had  much  horticultural  his 
tory  to  relate  to  Bradley,  of  hopes  realized,  or  disap 
pointed  by  slug,  curculio  and  fungus;  of  failures  in 
flowering  and  favorable  frutescence.  "These  be  clips, 
sir,  from  your  father's  choice  vine,  the  Nawth  Cawr- 


AMERICAN    LIFE   AT   HUME.  71 

liney,  which  that  feckless  chiel  Barney  cut  down  to 
sling  the  weights  for  the  hayrick  with." 

"  What  has  become  of  the  humorous  fellow?" 

"  O  sir,  on  his  leaving  here-  he  hired  with  Farmer 
Gregg,  and  spered  so  anent  this  and  thot  he  nearly 
drove  the  auld  mon  daft.  One  day  they  were  empty 
ing  the  pig-yard,  and  Barney  wrought  hard  with  the 
spade  atop  of  a  well  loose  filled,  which  settling  sudden, 
took  the  noble  descendant  of  the  O'Keefes  toward 
Auld  Nick  and  brimstane  rations  afore  his  time.  The 
mistress  bro't  the  clothes  line,  and  they  lugged  him  up 
the  matter  of  fifteen  feet.  He  went  off  straight,  and 
clean  disappeared." 

"That  ending  of  his  career,  Andrew,  suited  well  its 
beginning." 

"^ic  a  steer!  It  was  the  red-faced  major's  wig, 
which  he  left  in  the  swath  while  he  tried  a  turn  with 
the  scythe,  and  which  Barney  found,  misconceivin'  it 
for  a  strange  bur-urd's  nest." 

"A  fine  fuchsia." 

"One  I  set  by.  I  suppose,  sir,  you  hae  seen  unco 
grand  gardens  abroad." 

"Many.  The  loveliest  I  saw,  though  ragged  from 
neglect,  were  in  Italy;  delightful  without  being  trim, 
with  flowers  and  flowering  vines,  the  rich  green  of  the 
orange  and  myrtle,  and  cool  retreats  fenced  with  shrub  - 
bery  and  shaded  by  poplars  and  pines,  where  brooks 
meandered  among  fallen  statues  and  by  broken  foun 
tains." 

"  And  did  you  meet  in  your  travels  in  Italee  a  Sandy 
Gillivray?" 


72  THE  HOBTONS;   OB 

"No,  Andrew." 

"  He  was  my  mother's  sister's  son ;  a  pawky  lad,  wha 
became  what  they  call  a  coorier.  It  is  forty  year  since 
we  played  thegither,  and  dwelt  anear  by  the  burn.  I 
mind  the  time  as  yesterday  when  Deacon  Deans  took 
him  by  the  lug  at  kirk,  in  the  first  psalm,  for  jobbin 
me  wi'  a  preen. — There's  a  new  terrace,  sir,  raised  since 
you  left.  The  magnolias,  foreby,  did  bad  this  year. 
"Weel,  weel,  each  must  gang  his  gait!" 

While  in  Europe,  Bradley  Horton  chose  his  occupa 
tion.  He  determined  to  be  an  engineer.  He  was  now 
twenty-two,  and  old  according  to  the  notion  of  many 
stirring  and  superficial  Americans  to  be  a  learner.  A 
natural  fondness  for  mathematics  and  mechanics  which 
he  possessed  had  been  stimulated  by  association  with 
men  of  science,  and  by  the  contemplation  abroad  of 
massive  roads,  tunnels,  aqueducts,  and  bridges,  that 
combine  a  portion  of  the  old  Eoman  strength  and 
durability  in  stone — we  build  less  massively  than  they 
who  laid  foundations  for  the  ages— with  the  lightness 
and  grace  of  modern  civilization,  whose  talisman,  as 
was  that  of  the  rude  Gothic  days,  is  Iron. 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME. 


73 


CHAPTER   X. 

It  was  managed  with  proper  spirit  on  both  sides:  he  asserted  that  I 
was  heterodox,  I  retorted  the  charge;  he  replied  and  I  rejoined. 

VICAR  OF  WAKEFIEIJ). 

If  you  can  look  into  the  seeds  of  time, 
And  say  which  grain  will  grow,  and  which  will  not, 
Speak  then  to  me,  who  neither  beg  nor  fear 
Your  favors,  nor  your  hate.  —  MACBETH. 


N"  a  winter's  afternoon  unemployed 
IT  business  acquaintance  would  visit 
Clement  Horton's  counting-room  for 
familiar  conversation.  Assembled 
around  the  stove  are  Scroggs,  Bliggs, 
Glump,  and  a  stout  gentleman  of  lei 
surely  appearance,  who  has  been  in 
troduced  by  Bliggs  as  Mr.  Blumen- 
bach.  The  stranger's  accent  is  Ger 
man,  and  his  talk  indicates  him  to  be  a  man  of  culture. 
His  sense  of  propriety  seems  outraged  by  the  closeness 
of  Scroggs'  unbooted  foot,  which  emits  an  unsavory 
steam  as  it  toasts  at  the  fire,  the  dingy  stocking  being 
•  stroked  the  while  with  its  owner's  usual  complacency. 
It  is  always  the  left  foot  which  Bartimeus  comforts, 
having  lost  two  of  the  toes  proper  to  it  by  a  trap  in 
his  marauding  boyhood;  and  it  was  this  calamity 
which  -brought  him  his  little  limp.  There  is  a  quick 
7 


74  THE  HOKTONS;    OR 

play  of  thought  and  sensibility  in  the  German's  face, 
as  he  listens  and  replies  to  Mr.  Horton,  so  different 
from  the  show  of  narrow  and  oily  cunning  in  that  of 
the  venerable  Bliggs,  that  it  is  clear  the  association 
of  the  two  men  is  not  of  affinity,  but  of  accident. 
Glump's  solemn  visage  is  over  the  market  report  of  the 
Evening  Popgun. 

"Now,  do  you  think,  Mr.  Scroggs,  this  is  a  ginuine 
communication  from  Julius  Caesar?"  asked  Bliggs, 
incredulously,  as  he  finished  the  perusal  of  a  crabbed 
piece  of  penmanship  on  a  soiled  and  crumpled  scrap  of 
paper. 

"Every  word  on't;  look  at  the  internal  evidence," 
responded  Scroggs,  with  calm  emphasis. 

The  querist  bent  his  gaze  again  upon  the  paper, 
but  failing  to  find  the  proof  referred  to,  slowly  folded 
and  surrendered  it  to  Scroggs,  who  put  it  deferentially 
in  a  little  pocket-book,  with  an  air  of  triumph. 

""Well,"  pursued  Bliggs,  after  a  pause,  "I  don't 
profess,  Mr.  Scroggs,  to  be  a  philosopher,  but  if  I'm 
right  informed  Caesar  lived  in  the  world  before  the 
English  language  was  spoke,  I  may  say  invented, 
yet  you  nor  me  could  have  writ  that  document 
plainer." 

"  Ah !  there  it  is — the  work  of  spiritual  progression. 
He  learnt  it  in  the  Speers,"  replied  Scroggs,  benignly. 

"Would  you  make  a  time  purchase  on  such  advices, 
Frijnd  Scroggs?"  asked  Glump  over  the  Popgun. 

"  Would  you  take  the  ghost's  word  for  a  thousand 
pound  ?"  asked  Bradley. 

"No;  the  communication  might  be    a    counterfeit. 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  75 

There's  lieing  spirits.  There  is  no  money  in  them. 
Besides,  bargaining  's  for  our  common  sense,  not  our 
higher  nature,"  replied  Scroggs. 

"  Mebbe  this  one  was  bogus,"  suggested  Bliggs. 

"  How  then  could  he  have  known  John  Bunyan,  and 
be  able  to  tell  all  about  him  when  he  was  in  this  state 
of  existence,  living,  as  they  did,  so  many  hundred 
years  apart?"  responded  the  unperplexed  Scroggs. 

"  Well,  it  is  a  little  curious,"  admitted  Bliggs. 

"More  credible,  Mr.  Bliggs,  than  some  of  the  won 
ders  of  the  Bible  in  which  you  believe.  I  dare  say 
you  never  doubted  the  Jewish  passage  of  the  Bed  Sea  ?" 
said  Scroggs. 

"  Which  you  disbelieve  ?"  asked  Mr.  Horton. 

"It  is  all  a  fable,  sir,"  answered  Scroggs. 

"Yet  you  contend  that  tables  and  chairs  can  be 
lifted  by  supernatural  forces,  and  held  in  mid-air. 
If  the  law  of  gravitation  can  be  suspended  for  such 
trifling,  why  could  it  not  have  been  for  a  momentous 
purpose  ?"  urged  Mr.  Horton. 

"  Spiritualism  as  a  human  faith  is  new,  and  we  don't 
know  yet  its  capacities.  I  won't  undertake  to  limit 
them.  A  spiritual  army,  for  instance,  divested  of  the 
incumbrance  of  flesh  and  bone,  which  is  so  much 
dead  weight  to  be  overcome  here,  might  do  amazing 
things." 

"' so  soft 

And  uncompounded  is  their  essence  pure; 
Not  tied  or  manacled  with  joint  or  limb, 
Nor  founded  on  the  brittle  strength  of  bonea, 
Like  cumbrous  flesh — ' 

Thus  runs  the  epic  measure,"  said  Bradley. 


76  THE  HORTONS;   OR 

"Exactly:  Epic  was  a  spiritualist,"  responded 
Scroggs. 

"  I  must  deny,  however,  the  novelty  of  spiritualism," 
continued  Bradley.  "It  was  believed  in  Pagan  times. 
a  score  of  centuries  ago,  about  as  it  is  now,  Spheres 
and  all.  If  you  want  easily  consulted  evidence,  I 
shall  be  glad  to  lend  you,  Mr.  Scroggs,  Old  Burton, 
mine  Author.  And  was  it  not  also  the  reservoir 
whence  Simon  of  Samaria,  and  Elymas  of  Paphos, 
and  the  soothsaying  damsel  of  Philippi  drew  their 
inspiration?" 

"  That  rather  s'prises  me ;  I  didn't  think  it  dated 
so  far  back,"  pondered  Bliggs.  "The  Carthagenians 
was  Pagan,  as  well  as  the  Philistines;  I  expect  we 
Americans  ought  to  be  more  enlightened  than  them." 

"  It  is  nothing  but  the  wiles  of  the  Enemy,"  re 
marked  Glump,  with  decision. 

"We  liberal  people  are  prepared  to  encounter  the 
prejudices  of  education,"  blandly  observed  Scroggs. 

"Mr.  Glump  has  certainly  warrant  for  that  'prejudice' 
in  the  Gospel  and  the  epistles  to  the  primitive  church," 
remarked  Mr.  Horton.  "Perhaps  he  was  thinking 
of  Paul's  warning  against  'seducing  spirits  and  doc 
trines  of  devils,'  which  he  foretold.  But,  apart  from 
that,  what  evidence  have  you — I  mean  proof,  in  the 
rigorous  sense  of  the  word — to  establish  the  authorship 
of  these  communications  and  manifestations,  granting 
that  they  are  not  produced  by  earthly  agencies,  in 
the  disembodied  spirits  of  men.  How  do  you  know 
they  are  not  utterances  from  Jupiter,  say ;  of  superior 
intelligences,  if  you  please,  to  ourselves?  If  this  sup- 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT   HOME.  77 

position   is   sufficient  to  account  for  them,  how  will 
you  prove  that  it  does  not?" 

"  Jis  as  like  as  not — of  Hushel,"  said  Bliggs,  con-  v 
tributing  his  quota  of  astronomy. 

"Extremely  improbable,"  insisted  Glump  with  some 
asperity,  as  scorning  an  abandonment  of  the  dia 
bolism  hypothesis.  Scroggs  made  no  response,  but 
lapsed  into  his  fat  smile  of  serene  compassion.  Un 
friendly  cavillers  contended  that  in  these  fits  of 
abstraction,  which  seemed  to  radiate  placidity  and 
innocence  to  such  an  extent  that  his  very  eyes  were 
misty,  Bartimeus  planned  doubtful  schemes  of  profit. 
But  others,  who  knew  him  to  give  respectably  of 
his  substance  to  projects  of  philanthropy  when  they 
were  not  evangelic — for  they  had  seen  his  donations 
conspicuously  set  forth  in  the  newspapers — disbelieved 
the  imputation,  as  they  surely  ought. 

"But  grant,"  continued  Clement  Horton,  "that 
these  tapping  propagandists  are  the  disembodied  spirits 
of  men;  what  kind  of  spirits  are  they  which  are  so 
affectionately  familiar  with  the  worldly  and  wicked? 
Goodness  does  not  thus  easily  mingle  with  evil — the 
spice-laden  ships  do  not  steer  for  the  icebergs,  be  the 
treacherous  sea  about  them  never  so  inviting." 

"The  spiritual  bodies  of  men  have  been  seen  by 
the  endowed  in  the  process  of  formation,"  said  Blu- 
menbach. 

"Thomas    Jefferson     Spriggens,    the    seer,"    added 

Scroggs,  impressively,  "  saw  the  spirit  of  G- ,  the 

distinguished   scholar   who    was   executed,   form.      It 
was  awakened    in   the    Speer  by   soft   music.      And 
7* 


78  THE   HOBTONS;   OR 

what  corroborates  him  is,  G was  very  fond  of  just 

such  music  in  this  life." 

"Was  Spriggens,  Friend  Scroggs,  the  seer  who  saw 
.so  many   people   without   souls    in    Boston?"    asked 
Glump,  scomngly. 

"Seven  hundred  and  thirty-two  he  counted;  many 
of  them  highly  respectable,"  was  the  tranquil  reply  of 
Scroggs. 

"Now,  though  I'm  no  philosopher,  I  expect  spiritu 
alism  is  only  the  national  genius  on  a  new  shoot — that 
it  is  being  smart  in  a  new  shape,  which  pays  by 
making  people  stare  and  spend.  If  that  seer  could 
have  invented  an  improved  steam-engine  I  reckon  he 
wouldn't  have  seen  spirits,"  said  Bliggs. 

"There's  clearly  a  spark  of  'the  main  chance'  in  the 
new  ' religion.' "  said  Clement  Horton.  "The  thauma- 
turgists  who  receive  regular  mails  from  Hades,  take 
care,  I  am  told,  to  collect  the  postage  in  advance  of 
delivery ;  and  the  great  American  miracle-monger,  who 
puzzled  the  kings  and  councillors  of  Europe,  married  a 
princess,  or  somebody  of  the  sort,  the  other  day.  Much 
I  fear  that  the  bland  bishops  who  dispense  the  stira 
bout  of  spiritualism  for  gospel  meat  are  given  to  filthy 
'ucre." 

*  "As  to  spirits,  Mr.  Bliggs,  the  mejeums  see  'em  con 
stantly,  walking  up  and  down,  and  sometimes  can't 
distinguish  them  from  us,"  said  Scroggs. 

"Then  it's  the  kingdom  of  Beelzebub  displayed — • 
What's  the  use  of  seeing  them  ?"  growled  Glump. 

"The  elevation  of  human  nature,"  replied  Scroggs, 
with  an  air  of  contempt. 


AMERICAN    LIFE   AT   HOME.  79 

"I  don't  perceive  that;  nor  how  a  perpetual  motion 
of  ghost-traps  is  to  lift  it  a  peg,"  said  Glump. 

"Because  you're  a  supralapsarian,  sir,"  retorted  Bar- 
timeus  Scroggs,  with  lofty  commiseration. 

"Mebbe:  But  the  straightest  Calvinism  is  something 
more  than  a  mixture  of  sorcery  and  twattle,"  said 
Glump. 

"Dr.  Pledget,  sir,"  remarked  Bradley,  by  way  of  a 
diversion,  addressing  his  father,  "objects  to  spiritu 
alism  on  conservative  ground.  A  ghost  used  to  be 
an  event — something  creditable  to  have  in  a  family. 
It  stuck  to  the  pedigree,  and  gave  it  a  smack  of  mys 
terious  importance.  This  is  over  since  the  unpolite 
Smiths  and  Joneses  have  taken  to  walking  out  of  their 
winding-sheets." 

"We  are  certainly  entitled  to  ask,  what's  the  use  of 
hearing  the  spirits,  when  we  consider  that«^vhich  they 
are  declared  to  utter.  It  is  melancholy  to  reflect  how 
the  intellects  of  Erasmus  and  President  Edwards  have 
dwindled,  and  what  a  Miss  Nancy's  warble  the  muse  of 
Milton  is  become  in  'the  music  of  the  spheres;'  nay, 
even  Satan  himself  is  shrivelled,  and  no  longer  stands 

'  Like  Teneriffe  or  Atlas  unremov'd,' " 

said  Mr.  Horton. 

"  Sir,  you  say  true,"  assented  Blumenbach,  with  en 
ergy.  "Yery  much  of  the  inspiration  is  miserable, 
what  you  will  call  atrocious,  abominable — such  as  the 
schoolgirl  may  despise.  Most  people  have  little  brains 
in  this  world,  why  should  they  have  more  in  the  next? 
The  pretence  of  such  cheap  intercourse  with  the  spirits 


80  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

of  great  thinkers  and  scholars  is  one  humbug.  The  phi- 
losophers  do  not  much  know  the  mountebanks  here, 
when  they  are  together;  why  should  they  seek  com 
munion  when  they  get  out  of  their  company  ?  Fudge ! 
Yet  the  grand  subject  of  spiritualism  is  sure  and  not 
fabricated." 

Scroggs  referred  to  his  watch,  as  he  rose  to  leave. 

"As  well  doubt  that  there  is  mon — morals — she's 
stopped:  the  work  of  some  mischievous  spirit/'  he 
said. 

"Permit  me?"  asked  Mr.  Horton,  reaching  his  hand. 
He  held  the  watch  a  minute  in  his  warm  grasp,  gave  it 
a  vigorous  shake,  and  returned  it  ticking. 

"  The  work  of  Jack  Frost  rather ;  the  oil  in  the  move 
ments  was  congealed,"  he  said,  smiling. 

"Though  I  don't  profess  to  be  a  philosopher,  I 
shouldn't  wonder,"  acquiesced  Bliggs. 

"To  believe  such  doctrine  evinces  a  low  order  of 
intellect,"  said  Glump,  when  Scroggs  had  departed. 

"Spiritualism  has  converts  who  are  much  desired 
for  wit,"  replied  the  German,  curtly. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Horton,  "  poets,  and  persons  of  ima 
ginative  power.     To  them  the  soothing  revelation  of- 
Madame,  'who  died  o'  Wednesday,'  to  her  surviving 
spouse,  seems  no  more  inappropriate  than  the  con  sola 
tion  which  Creusa  gave  to  ^neas;  and  they  do  not 
care  to  inquire  too  curiously  if  it  be  simulated.     Yet 
Shakespeare  makes  Hamlet,  who  is  one  of  them,  doubt 
if  the  Devil  in  the  shape  of  the  spirit  be  not  abusing 
him  through  his  melancholy.    They  can  frame  from  the 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  81 

commonplaces  of  the  creed  the  architecture  of  a 
sensuous  and  intellectual  paradise — but  how  unsatis- 
fying!" 

"Why  say  you  so?"  asked  Blumenbach. 

"  Because  man's  moral  nature  is  far  above  his  intel 
lect,  and  the  highest  development  of^hat  nature  impels 
to  self-denial,  which  produces  a  purer  and  more  ex 
quisite  happiness  than  sensuousness." 

"  Not  alone  poets,  but  philosophers,  from  Socrates  to 
Swedenborg,  have  believed  in  the  spiritual  existences," 
asserted  Blumenbach. 

"Surely  you  cannot  claim  that  the  Greek  and  the 
Swede  were  in  any  wise  identified  with  the  spiritism  of 
to-day.  Granted  the  'infernal'  theory  of  Mr.  Glump, 
and  the  old  partnership  of  the  Witch  of  Endor  and  the 
Devil  renewed,  with  an  extended  connection,  would  be 
more  in  point,"  said  Mr.  Horton,  pleasantly. 

"  You  cannot  so  suppress  the  strange  story  of  Saul, 
grand  and  wayward  man,  from  whose  nature  every  ele 
ment  in  that  of  your  Shakespeare's  Othello  might  have 
been  drawn — courage,  credulity,  jealousy,  fiery  pas 
sion — with  a  sneer.  Spiritualism  is  the  belief  in  here 
after,  and  cherished  knowledge  of  the  wise  few  of  the 
ages,  aggregated  at  last  into  a  religious  system ;  just  as 
the  Church  is  the  complement  of  Christianity :  and  the 
great,  queer  Athenian  is  its  Paul,"  asserted  Blumen 
bach. 

"Concerning  the  'daemon'  of  Socrates,  his  'prophetic 
voice,'  of  which  he  talked  familiarly,  it  is  enough  to 
say  that  he  believed  it,  that  to  him  it  was  a  revelation, 
whether  true  or  false,  which  originated  beyond  himself 


82  THE  HORTONS;  OK 

and  the  operations  of  his  intellect.  That  such  a  faith 
should  have  been  professed  by  the  first  of  the  heathen 
sages,  a  faith  which  was  a  virtual  confession  of  his  own 
insufficiency,  is  the  sharpest  satire  upon  empty  carpers 
at  the  element  of  revelation  in  Christianity,  and  an 
argument  by  implication  against  the  ablest  objectors. 
Of  the  belief  of  the  pure-minded  Swede  we  are  fully 
informed.  He  held,  that  on  their  separation  from  the 
body  the  good  become  angels,  and  the  unregenerate 
spirits;  their  conditions  respectively  being  celestial, 
and  infernal;  and  unchangeably  fixed.  He  declared, 
that  both  good  spirits  and  evil  spirits  are  attendant 
upon  every  man.  That  the  former  live  in  the  good 
affections,  or  the  internal  and  spiritual  man ;  and  that 
the  latter  live  in  the  evil  affections,  or  the  external  and 
natural  man.  But  the  internal  spiritual  man  may  be 
and  continue  so  closed  as  to  admit  of  no  communica 
tion  with  heaven;  which  is  a  kingdom  established  in 
the  hearts  of  living  men,  as  well  as  a  disembodied  con 
dition;  and  which  is  only  attainable  by  prayer  through 
the  Lord  Christ,  who  is  the  fulness  of  the  Divinity. 
Your  spirits  give  lessons  in  good  morals,  you  say — 
'teach  the  morals  of  Jesus,'  I  believe  is  the  phrase — yet 
all  the  time  they  deny  his  divine  competency,  by  which 
those  'morals'  in  their  great  'results  are  recommended 
to  men;  they  pretend  to  accept  the  doctrine  while  they 
degrade  the  authority.  'Satan  himself/  says  St.  Paul, 
'is  transformed  into  an  angel  of  light.  Therefore  it  is 
no  great  thing  if  his  ministers  also  be  transformed  as 
the  ministers  of  righteousness.'  It  is  simply  tempta 
tion  in  the  garb  of  virtue — the  wasp  in  the  peach. 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME.  83 

Accept  Swedenborg,  and  modern  spiritualism  would 
indeed  seem  to  be  the  invisible  Satanic  en  rapport  with 
unregenerate  natures  in  this  world." 

"In  such  sort,  I  can  conceive  your  credulous  man 
mistake  dyspepsia  for  temptation  from  his  evil  spirits : 
the  devil  is  fond  of  the  liver,  and  hates  calomel  worse 
than  holy  water,"  said  Blumenbach. 

"  Well,  not  accepting  for  an  argument  that  which  is 
only  a  sarcasm,  compare  the  practical  results  of  Chris 
tianity  with  those  of  spiritism  in  this  world,"  urged  Mr. 
Horton. 

"You  will!"  exclaimed  the  German.  "War,  despot 
ism  envassaling  the  mind  of  Europe,  Paris  barricades 
and  Naples  dungeons,  Frenchmen  roasting  Arabs  and 
Englishmen  mangling  Hindoos?" 

"It  is  true  that  the  French  Eevolutionists  who  be 
headed  Louis  were  infidels,  but  the  English  Puritans 
who  doomed  Charles  fought  their  battles  between  a 
prayer  and  a  psalm;  and  while  the  end  in  the  one 
instance  is  a  self- perpetuating  military  despotism,  in  the 
other  it  is  constitutional  liberty,  vital  with  possibilities 
,(of  beneficent  development.  And  as  to  war,  hateful  as  it 
is,  Hobbes  had  the  countenance  of  history,  at  least, 
when  he  declared  it  to  be  the  natural  state  of  man. 
You  can  verify  Hobbes  in  the  next  street.  Go  watch 
unsanctified  human  tendency  in  the  riotous  rancor 
of  boys  at  a  stone -fight,  or  see  Hogarth  justified  by  a 
crew  of  young  ruffians  cruelly  hunting  to  death  a  harm  • 
less  cur.  It  was  always  pleasant  to  destroy,  and  noth 
ing  but  the  Christian  Church,  corrupted  as  it  was, 
curbed  the  impulse  short  of  a  resulting  anarchy — a 


84  THE  HOETONS;   OR 

European  Jacquerie — in  the  rude  ages  of  social  oppres 
sion  ;  and  preserved,  even  advanced,  the  civilization  of 
the  world." 

"  The  one  germ  in  all  human  tendency  is  order — you 
will  behold  it  in  a  street  mob,"  interposed  Blumenbach. 

"Certainly;  there  is  an  order  of  infernal  force.  Hell 
is  organized;  and  the  damned  of  that  'dark  monarchy' 
tempt  men — nay,  limitedly,  perhaps  each  other — with 
systematic  subtilty.  In  new  societies,  where  there  are 
no  established  laws,  assassins  and  gamblers  will  com 
bine  to  hang  a  burglar.  There  is  nothing  in  your 
spiritualism  which  stimulates  to  virtuous  actions  here; 
for  if  a  man  is  convinced  that  he  will  be  virtually  the 
same  hereafter,  a  shadowy  duplicate  of  himself,  or  pro 
bably  better,  he  will  be  apt  to  be  better  at  his  leisure: 
and  still  more  unconcerned  will  he  be  if  he  believes  in 
a  certainty  of  amendment;  for  then  he  will  surrender 
his  sense  of  responsibility  to  the  law  of  development. 
I  cannot  think  that  the  aspirations  of  a  creature  who 
may  possess  the  heart  of  David  united  to  the  brain  of 
Shakespeare  will  end,  if  you  will  pardon  me  the  phrase, 
in  this  horse-heaven  business.  Wisely  may  atheism 
crave  its  annihilation  if  the  innate  longings  of  man,  the 
tribulations  of  the  race,  are  to  terminate  only  in  the 
unsubstantial  projection  of  the  present,  and  a  mounte 
bank  ghost." 

"Could  we  make  what  is,  from  an  ideal  pattern, 
everybody  would  prove  a  master-workman.  By  specu 
lative  perfections  you  will  not  change  the  universal 
humanity,"  observed  the  German. 

"Now,   that's   very   true,"   said    Bliggs.      "Human 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  85 

* 

nature  is  a  strange  thing ;  though  I  don't  profess  to  be 
a  philosopher,  if  I  could  afford  to  quit  business,  I've 
often  thought,  I  would  turn  my  attention  to  the  study 
of  human  nature." 

"You  refuse  all  moral  truth  and  beauty  which 
spiritualism  can  render.  The  painter  who  sees  angels, 
can  put  them  on  his  canvas;  the  man  of  meditation  can 
bless  his  soul  with  a  glory  from  the  vast  and  perfect 
spiritual  order;  the  composer  will  hear  unearthly 
melodies,  ravishing,  and  utter  them  for  earthly  ears. 
Spiritualism  opens  our  obstructions  here;  therefore  it 
is  knowledge — wisdom,  if  we  will,  and  joy,"  said 
Blumenbach. 

"It  is  not  in  spiritism  that  this  capacity  of  enjoy 
ment  exists,  but  in  the  painter,  the  meditative  man, 
and  the  melodist;  that  is,  in  the  imaginative  faculty  of 
each  under  stimulation.  Let  us  be  exact.  That  which 
in  the  pagan  hind  of  Greece  of  Italy  was  a  debasing 
superstition,  in  the  pagan  poet  is  an  alluring  allegory. 
The  purer  and  higher  happiness  of  Christianity  is  the 
boon  of  the  humble  and  the  dull,"  insisted  Mr.  Horton. 

The  German  replied  with  a  shrug. 

"I  will  tell  you  a  case,"  he  said,  "which  I  can 
avouch  the  fact.  It  is  of  a  friend,  very  near,  the  expe 
rience  observable.  He  was  a  composer,  and  had  got 
much  esteem  for  his  works.  He  gave  all  his  earnest 
nature,  a  strong  love,  to  his  subjects.  He  was  produc 
ing  an  oratorio,  and  inspired  himself  with  the  grand 
Hebrew  prophets,  and  thought  his  music  day  and 
night — it  was  always,  always  in  his  mind.  The  brain 
was  made  sick,  and  for  two  weeks  life  was  one  weak 
8 


86  THE   HOKTONS;   OB 

light  behind  your  hand  in  the  wind.  Again  he  roso 
from  his  bed ;  but  with  memory  no  more.  He  could 
not  even  read.  It  was  very  sad,  the  strong  man,  in 
mind  grown  feeble  as  a  babe;  sitting  still  and  alone  in 
his  chamber  day  after  day,  dumb  between  his  cry  ings. 
At  a  time  when  thus  drooping,  on  a  calm,  sunny  morn 
ing,  he  fell  asleep.  Then  he  saw — saw  grand  specta 
cles, .  which  told  would  cause  smiles  and  be  called 
dreams.  I  shall  not  tell  them — only  this:  He  lay 
tranquilly  looking  at  the  light  which  flowed  through 
the  colored  windows  of  an  old  cathedral.  An  atmos 
phere  of  subtle  poison  subdued  all  his  being  but  con 
sciousness — a  pleasing  poison  which  it  was  bliss  to 
breathe.  The  Titian-like  figures  of  dusky  pictures 
brightened  gradually  into  exquisite  shapes  of  beauty, 
and  faded  again  into  indistinguishable  cobweb  grey. 
Then  the  pent  air  shook  with  the  vibrations  of  the 
organ,  and  his  own  lost  music  was  reproduced.  The 
organ  ceased,  and  for  a  space  he  was  unconscious. 
Then  it  was  midnight  in  the  cathedral,  and  he  lay  in  a 
coffin,  and  the  moonlight  streamed  through  the  painted 
panes  upon  his  shroud.  Out  of  the  darkness  of  a  dis 
tant  aisle  was  raised  a  pedestal  crowned  by  a  wreathed 
bust  in  pure  white  stone,  which  rested  on  a  scroll.  As 
if  drawn  with  phosphorus,  shone  characters  upon  the 
scroll,  and,  behold  a  resurrection  of  his  own  brain 
child — the  score  of  the  oratorio,  traced  by  a  luminous 
finger !" 

"Though  I  don't  believe  in  ghosts,  there  does  seem 
sumfin  supernatural  about  that,"  said  Bliggs. 

"No  doubt  the  phenomenon  was  the  result  of  brain 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME.  87 

fever,  and  the  recovery  a  good  providence:  when  the 
impressions  were  received  the  disease  had  spent  its 
force,  and  the  mind  was  reassuming  its  wonted  clear 
ness  and  harmony,"  remarked  Mr.  Horton. 

"Did  your  friend  go  on  with  business  afterwards, 
or  had  he  made  enough  to  give  it  up?"  asked  Bliggs, 
with  sudden  vivacity. 

"He  came  not  to  want,  sir,"  replied  the  German. 


88 


THE   HOETONS;   OB 


CHAPTEE   XI. 

Having  often  received  an  invitation  from  my  friend  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverley  to  pass  away  a  month  with  him  in  the  country,  I  last  week 
accompanied  him  thither,  and  am  settled  with  him  for  some  time  at 
his  country-house,  where  I  intend  to  form  several  of  my  ensuing 
speculations. — SPECTATOR. 

KADLEY  HOKTON'S  shipboard  ac 
quaintance  with  Miss  Bardleigh  was 
continued,  and  he  became  a  familiar 
visitor  at  The  Cedars,  her  father's  seat. 
Judge  Bardleigh  was  a  jovial  gentle 
man,  with  a  big  waist,  a  big  heart,  and 
a  face  which  glowed  in  laughter  purple 
as  his  wines.  In  the  line  of  paternity 
the  Judge  had  a  well  supplied  quiver; 
and  he  so  abounded  with  geniality  and 
benevolence  that  he  might  have  set  up  creditably  as  a 
stepfather  besides.  And  a  very  pleasant  place  was  The 
Cedars,  the  broad,  fat  acres  of  which  bred  no  anchore- 
tic  tendencies.  You  could  read  savory  plenty  in  the 
sleek  red  flanks  of  the  straight-backed  Devons,  as  they 
browsed  with  slow  content  the  juicy  herbage.  Better 
mutton  never  sheltered  under  fleece  than  was  killed 
and  dressed  at  The  Cedars.  The  ducklings  there  illus 
trated  the  peas ;  and  the  peas,  ravished  from  their  pods 
in  the  adolescence  of  early  marrowfats,  were  creditable 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME.  89 

to  the  ducklings.  The  good  cheer  was  appreciated 
throughout  the  country  side,  and  as  the  judge,  who 
was  at  once  a  hospitable  host  and  a  hearty  talker,  had 
beneath  his  roof- tree  a  rout  of  frolicsome  boys  and 
sprightly  girls,  there  were  frequent  merry-meetings  at 
The  Cedars. 

On  a  warm,  sullen  day  in  early  June,  Bradley  Hor- 
ton  and  Lydia  Bardleigh  were  pacing  a  shady  walk 
which  skirted  the  garden  at  this  rendezvous  of  good 
fellowship.  A  few  large  drops  of  rain  which  pelted 
through  the  leaves  overhead  drove  them  to  shelter. 
In  the  earnestness  of  their  conversation  they  failed  to 
observe  the  close  of  the  shower.  A  peal  of  laughter 
drew  their  attention,  and  looking  forth  from  the  cool 
retreat  down  a  lane  of  sun-glistened  shrubbery,  they 
beheld,  at  an  old  well  nestled  beneath  a  noble  English 
elm,  a  couple  in  playful  altercation. 

"Your  brother  Charley,"  said  Bradley. 

"And  Kose  Stuvesant,"  added  Lydia. 

"Pshaw!  sir;  you  can  never  catch  it;  let  me  try," 
said  the  young  lady  at  the  well. 

"Look  out  now,  Eosel  Like  as  not  the  little  beast 
will  jump  your  way,"  expostulated  the  youth,  as  he 
made  sudden  dashes  with  the  tincup  into  the  well- 
bucket. 

"  What  monster  have  you  got?"  called  Lydia. 

"A  little  fellow  in  Lincoln  green,  and  more  ftian  a 
match  for  us,"  returned  the  young  lady. 

"Yes;   jolly  green  to  get  himself  in  this  fix,"  ex 
claimed  Charley,  as  with  a  jerk  he  brought  up  a  frog 
by  one  of  its  convulsed  hind  legs. 
8* 


90  THE   HORTONS;    OB 

"You  began  your  gipsying  to-day  in  other  company, 
Rose,"  said  Lydia,  as  that  young  lady  and  her  escort 
entered  the  arbor. 

"  O  yes — Luke  Bardleigh.  He  was  stupid  enough  to 
get  a  fish-hook  in  his  finger ;  so,  when  he  went  about 
cutting  it  out,  I  left." 

"Now  would  you  think,  Lyd,"  said  Master  Charles, 
"  that  I've  been  betting  against  you  ? — Beg  pardon,  Mr. 
Horton,  I  didn't  notice  your  foot." 

"  But  I  do  your  head,  sir,  and  will  take  the  liberty 
to  remove  your  hat;"  which  Rose  proceeded  to  do, 
regardless  of  an  appealing  look  from  Lydia. 

"Quite  right,"  exclaimed  Bradley,  flushing;  "I  de 
clare  I  was  so  absent  that  I  forgot — " 

"The  presence  of  ladies.  Well,  your  forgetfulness 
is  atoned  for — there,"  tapping  smartly  with  a  willow 
switch  the  placed  hat. 

Bradley  amusedly  assented,  with  a  penitent  bow. 

"You  see,  Mr.  Horton,"  said  Charley,  "I've  been 
improving  Rose  in  the  practice  of  the  saddle,  till  ] 
think  I  can  count  on  her  against  our  brag  horsewoman 
in  these  parts,  Miss  Lyddy,  here.  Rose  says  she's  nof 
afraid  to  try,  on  my  Cricket.  Come,  don't  back  out, 
Lyddy!" 

"  I  can't  think  of  humoring  your  nonsense,  and  risk 
ing  your  cousin's  neck,"  replied  Lydia,  laughing. 

' '  What  charming  consideration  !"  mocked  Rose  Stu- 
vesant. 

"That  won't  do,  Lyddy;  Rose  is  not  a  baby,  you 
know,  to  be  nursed.  You  can't  escape  that  way — 
challenge  still  open!"  said  Charley. 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT   HOME.  91 

"Well,  Charley,  perhaps  I  wouldn't  refuse  Rose  a 
chance  for  victory  and  applause,  but  this  is  her  last 
day  at  The  Cedars,"  said  his  sister. 

"  Then  what  is  to  hinder  the  trial  coming  off  this 
afternoon  in  our  ride  to  Cranberry  Beach?  You  know 
we  are  all  to  go,"  urged  Charley. 

Cranberry  Beach  margined  a  bold  curve  of  the  bay, 
some  six  miles  from  The  Cedars.  It  was  a  road,  which 
gradually  shelved  sideways,  of  compacted  sand  with 
here  and  there  a  little  shingle,  where  at  the  height  of 
the  tide  several  horsemen  could  ride  comfortably 
abreast  a  long  reach,  with  the  beasts  of  the  inner  at 
times  fetlock  deep  in  the  yeast  of  the  encroaching 
waves.  In  the  ample  cove,  at  the  season,  fishermen 
cast  their  seine;  and  their  squat,  weather-beaten  cabins, 
deserted  now,  seemed  very  lonely  and  desolate  as  one 
listened  to  the  melancholy  plaint  the  water,  in  slower 
or  quicker  measure,  beat  upon  the  shore.  Under  a 
rude  shed  were  some  empty  barrels,  a  few  scattered 
float-corks,  and  a  broken  pitch  kettle.  The  skeleton 
of  a  boat  lay  just  beyond  the  tide-line,  where  the  wash 
had  left  its  edge  of  scum — chips,  weeds,  dead  crabs, 
and  the  dart-like  remains  of  the  gar.  The  wheatfields 
and  groves  of  the  remote  opposite  highlands  Jiow 
looked  gusty  in  shadow,  and  then  the  spreading  sun 
shine  swept  away  the  frown,  and  gaily  chased  it  over 
the  water,  where  a  flaw  of  wind  wasted  itself  in  a  feeble 
show  of  white-caps  and  shivered  in  the  slanted  sail  of 
the  shallop,  from  which  the  creak  of  the  jibing  boom 
came  to  the  ear  with  sharp  distinctness. 

They  had  turned  their  bridles  homeward  and  ridden 


92  THE  HORTONS;   OR 

together  a  few  hundred  yards,  a  party  of  four  gay 
ladies  and  their  cavaliers,  when  Rose  Stuvesant,  twirl 
ing  her  riding-whip  defiantly,  cried,  "Now,  Lydia,  for 
a  gallop !" 

Their  horses  were  nearly  neck  to  neck  when  they 
started  gallantly  from  their  companions,  who,  catching 
the  enthusiasm,  spurred  after  them. 

A  young  and  gentle  woman  in  a  jaunty,  feather- 
festooned  hat,  which  scarce  half  conceals  her  waves  of 
hair;  in  trailing  drapery  of  skirt  which  depends  from  a 
petite  mould  of  creaseless  bodice,  upon  a  horse  of 
mettle,  is  a  pretty  picture,  though  a  common.  The 
charms  that  belong  to  it  are  heightened  by  rapid 
motion.  The  doe  which,  startled  from  its  lair,  clears 
at  a  bound  the  crackling  branchlets,  nor  pauses  till  it 
gains  the  neighboring  crest,  and  then  turns  its  faultless 
neck  and  looks  behind  with  pleading  eyes,  is  a  type  of 
Beauty  in  action,  which  spells  you  to  compassion.  A 
ship  before  the  trade- wind,  ploughing  a  phosphorescent 
sea  on  a  soft  tropical  night,  her  full  sails  straining, 
while  her  leeward  bulwarks  lean  and  dip  as  she  glides 
swiftly  through  the  long  swells  that  heave  to  meet  her 
— her  full  sails  straining,  still  steadily  straining  toward 
Tahiti  asleep  beneath  a  purple  sky,  is  Beauty  in  an 
other  shape  <>{"  movement,  which  lulls  you  like  a  deli 
cious  dream.  Your  lady  in  the  saddle,  Sir  Knight, 
sans  helmet,  with  her  bridle  free,  her  flexible  body, 
forward  face,  aaid  glowing  cheek,  surpasses  mountain 
deer  and  trimmest  yacht  that  ever  wooed  the  gale — is  a 
display  of  loveliness  at  once  graceful,  tender,  and 
impetuous. 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME.  93 

A  cloud  of  dust  and  a  clatter  of  hoofs.  An  easy 
going  countryman  who  is  jogging  in  his  dearborn  be 
hind  "  Betz."  the  sleek  old  mare  bushy  with  wild  indigo 
to  keep  off  flies,  hears  in  a  doze  the  approaching  caval 
cade,  cranes  out  his  neck  to  reconnoitre,  and  draws  up 
to  the  fence.  Eustics  in  the  fields  lean  upon  their 
plough-handles  and  gaze  stolidly.  Dogs  at  the  infre 
quent  farmhouses  bark,  and  housewives  pause  at  wash- 
tub  labors  in  the  shade  to  look.  Colts  at  pasture  catch 
the  congenial  spirit  of  the  scene  arid  frisk  at  speed  the 
length  of  their  enclosures.  Even  the  stage  is  civil  and 
makes  room,  though  it  carries  the  mail  and  runs  on  its 
official  dignity.  Lydia  and  Eose  are  before;  Charley 
Bardleigh  and  Bradley  are  close  after,  gallantly  curb 
ing  their  horses. 

As  they  were  passing  a  cornfield  in  which  were  scare 
crows,  Eose  Stuvesant's  horse  shied.  Perceiving  the 
start,  Lydia  made  a  quick  movbinent  to  seize  the  bridle 
of  the  frightened  animal.  In  her  anxiety  for  her  cousin 
she  lost  her  own  seat,  failed  to  recover  it,  and  was  flung 
violently  to  the  ground.  A  shriek  from  Eose  an 
nounced  the  accident.  The  men  were  quickly  dis 
mounted,  and  beside  the  fallen  lady.  She  was  caje- 
fully  lifted  by  them,  found  to  be  insensible,  and  carried 
to  the  roadside.  From  a  wound  in  her  head,  where  it 
had  struck  upon  a  jagged  stone,  blood  freely  flowed. 
At  Bradley's  desire,  Charley  Bardleigh,  half  frantic 
with  excitement,  rode  off  to  summon  the  doctor  to  The 
Cedars.  Other  members  of  the  party  procured  near  by 
a  mattress  and  a  country  wagon. 

Judge  Bardleigh  sat  in  his  piazza,  smoking  and  chat- 


94  THE  HOBTONS;   OR 

ting  with  a  neighbor,  when  the  party  with  his  injured 
daughter  approached.  Instinctively  he  divined  disaster 
in  the  array,  which  he  started  down  the  avenue  to  meet. 
Shocked  and  solicitous,  he  insisted  on  removing  his 
child  in  his  own  arms  to  her  chamber.  Nor  were  his 
restless  attentions  diminished  until  the  arrival  of  the 
doctor,  who  calmly  examined  the  case,  and  after  due, 
and,  it  seemed  to  the  judge,  tedious  deliberation,  said, 
in  a  tone  where  matter-of-fact  and  sympathy  were 
oddly  commingled,  "Badly  hurt,  sir,  but  not  fatally, 
I  believe — I  have  known  worse  damage  got  over." 
And  then,  from  an  alarm  in  which  he  regarded  the 
speedy  death  of  his  child  as  probable,  the  mind  of  the 
father  was  incongruously  moved  to  an  earnest  concern 
at  the  ascertained  seriousness  of  her  injury,.  The 
doctor  kindly  undertook  the  organization  of  the  sick 
room,  and  prevented  Eose,  in  her  inexperience  and 
perturbation,  spreading  a  mustard  poultice  on  her  lace- 
edged  handkerchief. 

For  a  week  the  situation  of  Lydia  Bardleigh  seemed 
critical  indeed,  and  scarcely  to  warrant  the  not  unfavor 
able  prognostication  of  the  physician.  That  excellent 
man  was  placid  and  assiduous;  welcome  alike  at  bed 
side  and  board;  for,  strictly  professional  duties  done, 
and  well  done,  his  acute  and  informed  conversation, 
cheerful  conceits  and  pleasant  gossip,  dispelled  for  a 
time  the  household  gloom,  and  imparted  to  the  judge  a 
breadth  of  satisfaction  which  he  would  sometimes 
acknowledge  by  an.  approach  to  his  customary  inclu 
sive  laugh. 

Doctor  Grow  was  a  stout,  wide-chested  gentleman 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  95 

with  a  stoop  in  his  figure,  the  wear  of  over  sixty  years, 
a  bronzed  complexion,  and  a  full  white  beard.  In 
creed  he  was  a  devout  presbyterian.  His  innate  vigor 
had  fruited  variously.  He  had  invented  and  modified 
surgical  instruments,  produced  a  seedling  strawberrj 
•of  rare  merit,  performed  a  successful  amputation  of  the 
hip-joint,  and  published  an  ingenious  essay  on  the  civil 
polity  of  Moses.  At  much  trouble  and  cost  he  had 
contrived  to  import  a  pair  of  Peruvian  llamas,  and  he 
eloquently  urged  their  adoption  by  the  agricultural 
interest ;  but  the  sturdy  farmers  stuck  to  their  Morgans. 
Ancient  females  were  terrified  by  the  exotics,  associat 
ing  them  mentally  with  jungles  and  an  escape  from  a 
menagerie,  and  horses  were  incited  by  them  to  run 
away  upon  the  road ;  whereat  a  feeling  of  public  injury 
was  aroused  which  culminated  in  a  suit  at  law,  when 
the  doctor  gloomily  gave  up  his  patriotic  undertaking. 
By  the  rude  poor  his  science  was  reverentially  extolled; 
it  was  generally  confessed  that  he  knew  more  than  the 
celebrated  Indian  who  practised  with  herbs ;  and,  upon 
the  whole,  that  he  exceeded  in  a  knowledge  of  remedies 
old  Black  Baltic,  who  was  infallible  in  the  treatment  of 
worms  and  famous  in  the  line  of  fits.  By  the  culti 
vated,  he  was  cherished  as  much  for  his  feeling  and 
manly  nature  as  for  his  acquaintance  with  the  pharma 
copoeia.  Scores  of  men  sit  in  cabinets  and  senates,  even 
among  those  who  have  not  attained  conspicuity  by  low 
artifices,  or  have  not  been  thrust  upward  on  a  little  dis 
tended  rhetoric,  with  far  less  of  the  intellectual  fertility, 
promptitude,  energy,  patience  and  courage  which  are 


96  THE   HOETONS;   OB 

sometimes  possessed  by  the  unpretending  country  phy 
sician. 

At  the  request  of  Judge  Bardleigh,  Bradley  remained 
at  The  Cedars,  and  made  himself  serviceable  as  a  relief 
to  his  host.  For  some  days,  except  a  few  moments 
once  or  twice,  the  rigorous  proprieties  of  the  sick  room 
forbade  his  presence  there ;  and  these  glimpses  of  a 
pale,  unobserving,  half- conscious  face,  which  he  had  so 
lately  seen  aglow  with  health  and  vivacity,  inexpressi 
bly  saddened  him.  At  hours  when  callers  were  not 
expected — for  he  represented  the  master  of  the  man 
sion,  whose  unavoidable  employment  and  vigils  com 
pelled  him  to  sleep  much  of  days — Bradley  would 
saunter  alone  in  field  or  wood,  and  partake  of  that 
peculiar  enjoyment  which  characterizes  the  brief  re 
spites  of  the  watcher  who  is  gloomed  in  the  presence 
of  sickness  and  of  care.  For  such  occasions  blow 
fresher  zephyrs — then  added  incense  rises  from  the 
landscape;  the  little  stir  of  man  and  his  events  sub 
sides  in  the  confident  calm  of  nature,  which  seems  to 
say,  "Cling  to  me;  /am  steadfast,  and  remain!" 

It  was  a  warm  and  quiet  summer  afternoon.  En 
veloped  in  a  light  role  de  charribre,  the  fair  invalid 
reclined  in  an  extension  chair  wheeled  to  present  her 
wan  face  to  the  shadow.of  the  room.  At  a  jalousie, 
vainly  wooing  a  breeze,  Bradley  Horton  was  seated, 
book  in  hand.  Upon  a  servant  rustling  at  the  door, 
he  rose  softly  and  received  a  plate  of  ice.  When  he 
turned  toward  his  companion  he  saw  that  her  eyes 
were  shut,  and  that  she  seemed  to  doze.  He  stood 
for  a  moment  and  gazed  upon  her,  and  felt  that  there 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT  HOME.  '  97 

was  an  expression  of  tranquil  rapture  in  her  face  very 
exalted  and  lovely.  Then  lie  musingly  resumed  his 
seat  and  book,  glancing  through  the  blinds  occasionally 
into  the  effusive  sunlight  without,  where  a  humming 
bird  at  the  casement  balanced  with  a  musical  flutter, 
or  a  load  of  hay  drawn  by  panting  oxen  straining 
on  their  yokes  went  up  the  dusty  lane.  Then  the 
midsummer  stillness  was  enthroned  again  in  the  arid 
air.  Awhile,  and  a  brisk  patter  of  approaching 
footsteps  was  followed  by  the  joyous  exclamation  of 
a  child,  as  she  burst  into  the  room  regardless  of 
Bradley's  monitory  gesture. 

"O,  see  here  what  nice  Mr.  Cole  made  for  me — 
Fanny  Spot.  He  calls  it,  'Pet  Asleep.'  I  must  show 
it  to  Aunt  Lyddy,  and  its  just  like  her." 

"What  is,  Kate?"  asked  the  lady. 

"Make  haste  and  look  at  it,  sir,  and  let  me  take 
it,"  said  little  Kate,  impatiently  reaching  for  the 
Bristol  board. 

It  was  a  pencil  sketch  of  a  kitten  sprawled  on  a 
kitchen  floor,  sleep-overtaken  in  the  act  of  playing 
with  the  strings  of  an  apron.  It  laid  on  its  side,  its 
ears  perked  forward,  its  face  turned  half  upward,  and 
its  upper  legs  still  flexed  as  in  the  final  pat. 

"  Aunt  Martha  thinks  it's  beau-ti-ful,"  said  Kate, 
"and  I  wanted  Mr.  Cole  to  make  the  old  cat  too;  and 
Mr.  Cole  said,  I  must  catch  and  hold  it,  then;  and  I 
found  it  in  the  wash-house,  and  it  tried  to  scratch 
me — it's  very  vicious,  and  I  don't  like  it  a  bit." 

The  child  seated  herself  on  a  stool  at  Lydia's  feet 
while  the  picture  was  examined  and  commended.  The 
9 


98  THE   HORTONS;    OB 

lady  passed  her  thin  white  fingers  through  the  golden 
ringlets  that  fell  upon  her  robe.  Sobered  by  the  tone 
of  the  place,  the  child  sat  long  quiet.  The  picture  lay 
unregarded  beside  her  as  she  watched  a  radiant  concern 
m  the  thoughtful  eyes  of  her  aunt.  "Suffer  little 
children,"  the  lady  gently  repeated.  After  a  pause, 
she  turned  her  head  toward  Bradley  and  addressed 
him. 

"A  poet,  I  suppose  by  the  blue  and  gold  of  the 
binding?" 

"It  is  Tennyson;  and  I  hav.e  been  reading  that 
gusty  lamentation,  'Locksley  Hall!'" 

"I  remember  it — a  story  of  disappointed  love,  told 
in  a  strain  of  keen  distress?" 

"Yes." 

"Do  you  think  there  are  many  such  griefs,  Mr. 
Horton?" 

"Many;  of  which  the  world  is  mostly  ignorant. 
The  anguish  of  unrequited  love  is  not  an  affliction  to  be 
hawked  in  the  market-place.  Perhaps  its  history  will 
end  undivulged  before  a  battery,  and  be  buried  in  a 
trench — perhaps  it  will  be  buried  in  a  mad-house. 
It  is  an  English  malady.  Miss  Edith's  Roman  nose  is 
inherited  from  a  Norman  pirate,  so  she  is  constrained 
to  be  a  social  purist. 

'She  was  sprang  of  English  nobles,  I  was  born  of  English  peasants; 
What  was  /that  I  should  love  her — save  for  feeling  of  the  pain?'" 

"  The  prescriptive  sundering  of  natures  which  were 
created  to  approach,  and  which  are  worthy  of  each 
other,  is  a  cruelty  of  British  caste  as  abhorrent,  I 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME.  99 

think,  to  reason,  &s  is  any  assumption  of  Braminism," 
said  Lydia. 

"  The  English  Bramins  hedge  their  lives  with  arro 
gated  social  sanctities  to  the  very  threshold  of  eternity 
and  nakedness;  and  hoard  poor  butterfly  dust  as 
though  it  were  gold  of  heaven's  own  minting,  seven 
times  refined — cherish  their  narrow  conventionalism  to 
the  last  punctilio,  to  make  grim  merriment  for  waiting 
ghosts,  that  laugh  at  the  fools  whom  they  welcome," 
said  Bradley. 


100 


THE  HORTONS;   OB 


CHAPTER   XII. 


Overreach. — I  am  of  a  solid  temper,  and  steer  on  a  constant  course. 

A  NEW  WAY  TO  PAY  OLD  DEBTS. 

HE  house  of  Bloker  and  Ball  was  one 
of  the  most  substantial  in  the  city. 
It  had  survived  a  half  dozen  "panics," 
and  had  not  been  known  to  ask  for 
even  an  extension.  Ball,  indeed,  was 
>'  no  longer  in  the  flesh:  a  gaunt,  ambi 
dextrous  quaker,  he  had  gone  out 
of  the  firm  years  before,  and  disap 
peared  with  the  fashion  of  small 
clothes,  to  which,  including  buckled 
shoes,  he  tad  adhered  staunchly  to  the  end  of  his 
earthly  career.  Jacob  Bloker's  was  the  brain  and 
bank-account  of  the  house  of  Bloker  and  Ball. 

The  counting-rooms  of  Bloker  and  Ball  were  light, 
airy  apartments,  aristocratically  aloof  from  the  region 
of  warehouses,  in  a  solid  and  ugly  brown-stone  building 
of  the  bastard  Egyptian  style,  which  they  shared  with 
a  popular  insurance  company — the  Diddlum  Mutual, 
with  ample  assets  in  wild  lands  and  the  notes  of  kin 
dred  corporations — a  bill  engraver,  two  or  three  bro 
kers,  and  a  stationer.  Bloker  and  Ball's  clerks  never 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  101 

presented  themselves  to  the  public  gaze  hurrying  in 
inked  jackets,  but  were  notable  for  club-house  move 
ment,  spotless  linen,  the  neatest  of  neckties  and  boots, 
"nobby"  hats,  and  in  general  a  pick-the-teeth  air  of 
deliberation.  They  could  put  one  up  to  a  move  or  two 
in  billiards,  give  all  the  fine  points,  operatical  and 
occult,  of  that  magnificent  creature,  Calypso  Tuberose, 
and  talk  "dog"  acceptably  to  the  veterans  at  the 
"Sportsman's  Bag."  Yet  the  affairs  of  the  house  were 
administered  with  system  and  courtesy,  and  even 
bilious  people  were  known  to  have  declared  it  a  plea 
sure  of  existence  to  do  business  with  Bloker  and 
Ball. 

"Of  course,  Mr.  Cripps,  you  have  brought  home 
Captain  Warner's  effects — I  wish  you  would  let  his 
wife  know  of  his  death,  if  she  has  not  already  seen  it 
announced  in  the  marine  intelligence;  I  hate  scenes," 
said  Jacob  Bloker. 

"Well,  I  won't  skulk  a  dead  man's  message,  and  I 
am  charged  with  one;  but  I'd  sooner  face  a  pampero," 
said  the  first  officer  of  the  merchant's  ship  Swan. 

"Good  weather  and  run  from  Bio?"  asked  Bloker, 
examining  some  papers. 

"First-rate,  sir,  till  we  got  in  the  stream,  except 
squall  off  Pernambuco." 

"How  long  was  Captain  Warner  sick  with  the 
fever?" 

"Ten  days  in  hospital,  and  they  took  him  ashore  the 
second  day." 

"It  kept  you  back   with   cargo  nearly  a  week,  it 
9* 


102  THE  HORTONS;   OR 

seems.  Um! — bad;  but  it  can't  be  helped,"  said 
Bloker. 

"It  went  liard  -with  Warner  to  go — on  account  of  his 
helpless  family,  he  said." 

"Helpless? — yes — I  believe  so,"  said  Bloker,  slowly, 
while  making  a  memorandum  on  the  back  of  an  in 
voice.  "He  always  kept  close  drawn." 

"  He  had  been  in  your  employment  fifteen  years,  I 
think  he  told  me,"  said  Cripps. 

"  About  that  time.  A  careful  man,  and  wide  enough 
awake — seldom  lost  a  spar. — How  many  vessels  were 
waiting  in  port  when  you  left?" 

"Eight  Americans,  and  more  North  of  Europe  craft 
than  I  ever  saw  at  once  at  Eio,"  answered  the  mate. 

"  Freights  will  rule  low,  then. — Captain  Warner  got 
three  dozen  fowls  at  Marseilles,  I  see;  yet  I  believe  he 
took  out  four  pigs,"  remarked  Bloker. 

"  We  had  a  passenger  from  Marseilles.' 

"So — yes:  well,  the  accounts,  on  the  whole,  seem 
unobjectionable.  I'm  glad  you  are  here  at  last,  for  cof 
fee  has  taken  quite  a  jump,  and  I  don't  think  it  will 
stay  up,"  said  the  chief  of  Bloker  and  Ball  as  he  gath 
ered  the  papers  for  his  bookkeeper. 

The  following  day  Jacob  Bicker's  private  office  was 
he  scene  of  another  conversation.  A  sorrowful  woman, 
of  middle  age,  addressed  the  merchant. 

"He  was  a  tender  husband,  sir.  I  had  something 
heavy  on  my  mind,  but  I  was  not  prepared  for  such  a 
blow." 

"  My  dear  madame,  it  is  only  a  question  of  time  with 
us  all,"  said  Bloker. 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  103 

"True,  sir;  but  that  consideration  lessens  little  the 
bitterness  of  our  loss,"  replied  the  lady.  "Our  poor 
Frank  is  worse  again  with  his  spine,  and  he  is  expect 
ing  his  father  daily;  I  have  not  dared  to  break  the 
news  to  him,  though  I  think  he  guesses  that  some 
thing  is  wrong— my  poor,  patient  child!"  and  the 
mother  wept. 

"  Pie  has  been  an  invalid  for  several  years?  I  remem 
ber  to  have  met  you  two  or  three  summers  since  cross 
ing  him  on  the  ferry-boats  for  the  air.  Does  nothing 
help  him?"  asked  the  merchant,  civilly. 

"It  is  but  too  likely  that  nothing  ever  will — the  doc 
tors  give  no  hope,"  said  Mrs.  Warner. 

"  That  is  discouraging.  Perhaps,  Mrs.  Warner,  this 
is  hardly  the  time  for  the  formality  of  a  settlement,  but 
I  have  by  me  the  balance  of  your  husband1s  account, 
and  will  give  you  a  check  at  once.  At  the  time  of  his 
death  there  was  one  hundred  and  sixty-one  dollars  due 
him.  There  were  some  expenses,  which  I  will  not 
mention.  I  will  make  the  check  two  hundred  dollars, 
and  ask  you  to  accept  it,"  said  Jacob  Bloker,  in  a  tone 
large  with  generosity. 

It  is  not  probable  that  the  widow  had  thought  of  a 
gratuity  just  then,  but  as  it  was  offered — thirty-nine 
dollars  to  represent  the  appreciation  of  fifteen  years  of 
faithful  service  in  a  responsible  station — and  in  a  man 
ner  which  said  plainly,  "This  is  final,''  she  was  bereft 
of  all  power  of  utterance. 

"But,  stop!"  exclaimed  the  merchant,  arresting  him 
self  in  the  act  of  handing  the  check  to  Mrs.  Warner, 
and  summoning  a  clerk,  "how  thoughtless  I  am;  I  will 


104  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

have  it  drawn  for  you,  madame — Charles,  get  gold  for 
this." 

When  the  widow  recovered  from  her  surprise  at 
Bloker's  offer  she  flashed  with  indignation;  but  she 
was  a  mother ;  she  thought  of  her  bereaved  and  depen 
dent  family;  of  her  stricken,  helpless  boy;  and  she 
stifled  her  anger.  In  anguish  of  heart  she  dropped  the 
yellow  pieces  into  her  purse,  and  went  to  her  desolate 
home. 

Yet  not  altogether  desolate.  The  God  of  the  widow 
is  bountiful  of  compensations.  Poor,  patient  Frank, 
though  a  cause  of  solicitude,  was  also  a  source  of  com 
fort.  Thin  and  wasted,  his  pale,  meek  face  seemed  to 
have,  taken  on  a  fore-look  of  spiritual  glory.  It  was 
surpassingly  pleasant  to  mark  the  electric  glances  of 
affection  which  passed  between  mother  and  child. 
They  were  a  language  in  themselves — the  voiceless 
communing  of  sympathetic  souls.  Week  after  week, 
all  day,  the  lad  laid  propped  with  pillows  on  a  lounge, 
reading  his  story  books,  watching  and  listening  to  his 
canary,  or,  his  couch  wheeled  to  the  window-seat,  clean 
ing  his  few  pot  plants  of  insects.  A  feeble,  misshapen 
child,  but  dear  to  the  family  heart,  and  precious  in  the 
sight  of  angels;  with  the  town's  tumultuous  tide  sweep 
ing  about  him  the  fortunes,  strifes,  and  crimes  of  men, 
quiet,  thankful,  and  heedless  of  its  roar.  Two  other 
steady  boys  received  scant  wages  in  places  where  they 
looked  for  advancement ;  and  Jane,  the  eldest  daughter, 
taught  at  a  rural  seminary. 

Upon  hearing  of  her  father's  death,  Jane  Warner 
came  home  to  mingle  her  grief  with  her  mother's. 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME.  105 

When  told  of  Bicker's  gift,  she  kindled  at  once  to  a 
decision: 

"The  thirty-nine  dollars  must  be  returned  to  this 
man,  mamma;  my  father's  memory  shall  not  be  thus 
insulted — I  will  send  the  sum  out  of  my  savings." 

Shortly  afterward,  among  the  merchant's  correspond 
ence  was  a  letter  which  contained  a  remittance  of  seven 
five-dollar  bills,  and  four  gold  dollars  glued  to  the 
sheet.  Its  written  contents  were  concise  and  conclu 
sive. 

MR.  JACOB  BLOKER,  Shipowner. 

SIR: — You  will  receive,  here  inclosed,  the  benefac 
tion  which  you  graciously  bestowed  on  my  mother. 
In  a  condition  of  mental  uncertainty,  produced  by 
sudden  and  deep  distress,  it  was  mechanically  accepted 
by  her ;  reflection,  which  has  occasioned  a  proper  sense 
of  self-respect  in  the  living  and  a  just  regard  for  the 
memory  of  the  dead,  has  determined  her  to  return  it. 

The  probity,  carefulness,  and  energy  in  a  responsible 
station^ which  you  have  freely  confessed  characterized 
the  services  rendered  to  you  by  my  father  during  many 
years,  can  hardly,  in  the  most  stringent  estimation,  be 
requited  by  the  inconsequential  sum  of  thirty-nine 
dollars.  If  you  should  urge  that  the  current  wages 
received  from  you  by  the  deceased  were  adequate  pay 
ment  for  his  exertions  in  your  interest,  there  is  no  room 
in  equity  for  a  gift.  In  neither  case  ought  the  money 
to  be  retained. 

Your  humble  servant, 

JANE  WARNER. 


106  THE   HORTONS;   OR 

Perhaps  while  Bloker  was  angrily  pouching  his 
rejected  bounty,  a  person,  as  the  world  goes,  with  a 
very  different .  social  stamp,  was  cheerfully  surrender 
ing  his  little  fortune  ,in  acknowledgment  of  an  unre 
corded  favor;  for  the  abstraction  of  five-and-twenty 
dollars  relieved  a  rare  turgidity  in  the  purse  of  Terence 
O'Eourke. 

"  And  this  is  how  it  was,  ma'am,"  explained  Terence 
to  Mrs.  Warner;  "I'd  wrought  for  the  captain — God 
rist  him — years  ago  at  stavadoring,  when  he  kept  from 
saa — bad  cess  to  it — and  he  know'd  me  for  an  honest, 
hard-working,  industhrious  mon ;  when  one  shudderin' 
winter  there  was  no  thrade,  and  not  even  odd  jobs,  and 
Biddy  and  the  childer  wanting  the  bit  to  ate.  It  was 
then  the  good  captain — rist  his  soul — gave  me  the 
manes  to  live;  saying,  'Terence,  whin  you  get  foremist 
the  wur-uld  with  the  loike  of  this  sum,  I  will  recave  it; 
if  you  niver  do,  it  don't  matther — use  it  with  aconomy.' 
And,  ma'am,  it  was  the  good  that  money  did  me  that 
can't  be  tould!  But,  somehow,  I  could  niver  make  it 
convenient  to  return  it,  till  racently  a  society  of  which 
I  was  a  member,  the  Hoibernia  Bineficial,  broke  and 
di voided  the  funds;  and  Father  McGuire  says,  'Terence, 
as  you  don't  requoire  that  sum  for  the  present  nades  of 
your  family,  is  there  no  old  obligation  on  your  mind 
you  would  wish  to  attind  to?'  And  thin,  ma'am,  I 
thought  for  the  first  of  the  captain's  ginerosity,  though, 
•in  troth,  I  hadn't  forgot  it." 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME. 


10Y 


CHAPTBE    XIII. 


Saint  Cupid,  then !  and,  soldiers,  to  the  field ! 

LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


SMALL  party  surrounded  the  ma 
hogany  at  Belair,  drinking  claret 
and  eating  the  September  peaches. 

"This  melocoton,  Mr.  Horton,  is 
easier  to  take  than  was  Sevastopol," 
observed  Jacob  Bloker,  essaying  a 
harmless  joke. 

"You  must  thank  Mr.  Davenport 
then,  whp  budded  the  tree." 

"I  like  them  best  in  dumplings, 
with  the  right  sort  of  dip,"  said  the  old  clerk,  modestly 
avoiding  the  arborary  sponsorship.  "Fortescue — 
Nankeen  Fortescue  we  called  him — in  the  India  trade, 
a  very  sensible  man  who  died  of  apoplexy,  always 
stood  up  for  cherry  pie  in  preference,  with  good  farm 
house  milk,  but  I  never  agreed  with  him." 

"You  will  have  choice  fruit,  Mr.  Bloker,  in  a  year 
or  two.  Bradley  tells  me  that  some  of  your  Van 
Mons  pears  are  rare  in  Belgium.  I  should  be  glad  to 
exchange  grafts  with  you,"  said  the  host. 

"  Of  course — when  you  please.  By-the-by,  Horton, 
that  gray  colt  which  I  was  about  to  sell,  and  you 


THE  HOETONS;     OK 

thought  of  as  a  saddle  horse  for  Miss  Hortou,  wants 
exercising — he's  perfectly  broke,  and  I'll  send  him 
over,"  said  Bloker. 

"You  didn't  fix  on  a  price,  I  believe." 

"No:  try  him  awhile,  and  you  can  judge  better  of 
his  value.  There  may  be  some  defect  unknown  to  me 
— we  won't  close  the  matter  just  now." 

Presently  they  joined  the  ladies,  Emily  Horton  and 
Caroline  Mellen,  and  sauntered  about  the  grounds  to 
enjoy  the  beauty  and  freshness  of  the  approaching 
sunset. 

"You  shall  take  charge  of  me,  Mr.  Davenport,  and 
teach  me  botany,"  said  Caroline. 

"Should  be  glad  to,  but  I'm  not  well  advised  on 
the  subject.  -Yet  my  family  has,  I  may  say,  a 
botanical  genius.  My  mother  is  counted  very  skilful 
in  sickness  to  make  herb  teas,  and  I  recollect  my  grand 
mother  would  talk  by  the  hour  of  plants,  and  could 
describe  a  half  dozen  sorts  of  snakeroot  alone.  The 
old  lady  had  a  drawer  in  her  bureau  full  of  valuable 
receipts  for  almost  every  complaint,  which  she  left  to 
mother.  She  had  been  all  her  life  collecting  and 
writing  them  out,  but,  as  they  were  mixed  together  and 
she  was  a  slow  reader,  it  would  sometimes  take  nearly 
a  day  to  find  a  particular  one,  which  was  inconvenient 
when  a  neighbor  was  taken  sudden." 
•  "I  suppose  bachelors  are  fond  of  flowers,  for  I  find, 
when  they  don't  smoke,  that  they  carry  in  their  clothes 
a  smell  of  lavender,"  said  Caroline. 

"  I  like  them  when  they  are  bright-colored,  such  as 
roses  and  sunflowers.  And  I  like  to  watch  the  bees 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  109 

about  them.  When  I  was  a  youngster,  next  to  our 
warehouse  yard  there  was  a  drug-mill,  the  owner  of 
which,  a  low-spirited  man,  kept  a  hive,  and  in  the 
season  I  bought  bouquets  of  the  market-women  that  I 
might  draw  the  bees  and  see  their  pleased  and  busy 
movements.  More  than  once,  thus  occupied,  I  have 
fallen  asleep  on  a  packing-case  at  the  open  window, 
and  done  my  letter  copying  at  night,"  said  the  old 
clerk. 

As  they  went  leisurely  down  the  walk  they  heard 
shouts  before  them,  and  upon  looking  in  that  direction 
they  perceived  a  violent  ripple  in  a  growth  of  shrub 
bery,  and  then  a  heifer  in  headlong  rush  toward  them, 
with  Andrew  the  gardener  and  a  bawling  lad  hard 
after.  There  was  a  summer-house  close  by,  and,  gal 
lantly  seizing  Caroline,  Davenport  made  for  the  conve 
nient  refuge.  Having  thrust  her  in,  the  old  clerk  was 
entering  with  elastic  step,  when  his  hat  struck  the 
lintel  and  rolled  away  on  the  gravel  walk.  While  he 
turned  to  recover  it,  the  cow  charged  upon  him.  The 
situation  had  been  suddenly  sprung,  the  brute  was 
unfamiliar,  and  Henry  Davenport  had  heard  of  hydro 
phobia  in  rampant  cattle.  He  ran;  and  coursing  fleetly 
down  a  side  path  only  halted  when  he  reached  a  tree 
with  an  accessible  fork,  nor  then  until  he  was  sheltered 
in  it.  As  he  mopped  his  face  in  this  place  of  safety, 
he  was  pleased  to  behold  the  incensed  gardener  punch 
the  head  of  the  boy,  whose  carelessness  he  accused  as 
the  cause  of  the  mischief  to  his  horticulture. 

"You  wullin!"  exclaimed  Andrew,  "will  you  mind 
the  heck  next  time?" 
10 


110  THE   HOETONS;    OB 

Then,  turning  to  Davenport,  "Hoot,  mon,  come 
doon!" 

"Certainly;"  said  the  fugitive,  as  he  dropped  with 
difficulty  to  the  ground,  "I  was  just  going  to.  If  only 
I  had  my  fowling-piece!  A  cow  did  you  say!  By 
Saint  George!  I  took  it  to  be  a  bull." 

"Disobedience  and  heedlessness,  lad,"  said  Andrew, 
in  a  strain  of  moral  reproof,  "is  foreby  the  deil;  and  if 
ye  nae  mend,  you'll  howl  and  greet  worse  than  thot. 
Gin  it  was  nae  for  patience,  which  is  the  wale  of  a' 
virtues — there's  the  head  of  yon  Ageeptian  lily  bit  clean 
off!"  and  at  this  fresh  provocation  the  gardener  made  a 
threatening  movement  toward  the  culprit,  by  whose 
superior  agility  it  was  eluded. 

Caroline  welcomed  Davenport  from  the  window  of  the 
summer-house  with  seasonable  banter. 

"I  don't  believe,  sir,  a  more  masterly  retreat  could 
have  been  executed — but,  what's  the  matter  with  your 
hat?"* 

"I  accidentally  put  my  foot  on  it." 

"Had  your  head  been  in  it,  it  had  been  the  better 
for  your  hat,  Mr.  Davenport." 

"  You  may  laugh,  Miss  Caroline,  and  I  like  to  hear 
you,  though  it  is  at  my  expense;  but  he  would  be  a 
desperate  man  who  would  stand  before  an  infuriated 
animal  with  horns,  without  even  an  umbrella  for  de 
fence.  I've  known  cattle  to  go  through  plate-glass 
windows,  and  in  hot  weather  the  hospitals  take  in  a 
number  of  tossed  people.  Many  years  ago,  an  ac 
quaintance  of  mine — Tarbox,  salt  provisions  was  his 
line — was  shook  up  awful." 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME.  Ill 

"  You  did  quite  right  to  run  away,  Mr.  Davenport ; 
I  should  have  done  the  same,"  said  Caroline. 

"Tarbox,"  continued  the  old  clerk,  musingly, 
"  didn't  recover  short  of  an  operation,  and  then  it  was 
a  tedious-case." 

"'Twas  only  a  woman's  raillery,  Mr.  Davenport;  I 
don't  think  you  a  bit  nervous." 

"Yet  if  I  wasn't,  I  would  have  spoken  my  mind 
about  some  things  long  since,"  replied  Davenport,  with 
confused  briskness. 

Seeing  that  her  companion  regarded  her  appealingly, 
as  if  to  emphasize  his  remark,  Caroline  responded  to 
the  look  with  respectful  attention. 

"It  must  be  a  hard  thing  which  staggers  your 
frankness,  Mr.  Davenport." 

The  simple  reply  of  the  lovely  woman,  half  sympa 
thy  and  half  compliment,  touched  the  old  clerk  sensi 
bly,  and  emboldened  him  to  proceed. 

"It  is  a  hard  thing  for  me,  and  I  can't  keep  it  longer 
— Miss  Caroline,  I  am  your  devoted  admirer !" 

She  flushed  and  started ;  but  in  a  moment,  when  she 
had  conquered  her  surprise,  she  answered  with  affected 
misconception, 

"And  I  am  your  admiring  friend,  Mr.  Davenport;  I 
hope  we  shall  always  feel  for  each  other,  even  if  chance 
should  permanently  part  us,  a  cordial  esteem." 

When  Caroline  began  to  speak  in  her  kind  accents, 
Henry  Davenport's  face  mantled  with  eagerness;  when 
she  finished,  he  drew  a  long  breath  and  was  silent. 

"Night  will  catch  us  playing  truant  if  we  stay 
longer;  the  frogs  in  Cattail  Marsh  have  been  prac- 


112  TITE    ITORTONS;    OR 

tising  this  half-hour,  and  there's  the  first  lightning- 
bug,"  said  Caroline,  pleasantly. 

Bloker  and  Emily  Horton  are  standing  where  the 
ground  is  mossy  by  the  poplars. 

"So  you  know  Mrs.  "Warner?  A  very  worthy  lady; 
though,  I  am  bound  to  say,  a  little  imprudent — that  is 
with  expensive  tastes,"  said  Bloker. 

"Because  she  refuses  proffered  bounty?"  replied 
Emily,  with  a  tone  of  sarcasm. 

"Ah!  I  see  you  have  been  told  a  certain  circum 
stance,  and  that,  doubtless,  in  'the  telling  I  have  been 
treated  without  mercy.  I  suppose  my  slight  gift  was 
represented  as  final — a  closing  of  the  account?" 

"As  you  urge  me — I  believe  it  was  so  regarded." 

"Now  see  the  mischief  of  misconception.  I  assure 
you  that  it  was  only  an  instalment  of  what  I  intended 
to  bestow.  It  was  my  desire  to  serve  Mrs.  Warner  in 
the  amount,  who,  to  be  plain,  has  no  just  notion  of  the 
value  of  money.  The  captain's  ample  salary  was 
always  needed  when  it  was  due." 

"With  some  chances  for  observation,  I  have  not 
noticed  extravagance  in  Mrs.  Warner's  housekeeping. 
There  were  a  half-dozen  children  to  rear,  and  some  of 
them  sickly." 

"  The  last  is  the  most  distressing  feature  in  the  situa 
tion  of  the  family,"  said  Bloker,  with  an  attempt  at 
commiseration.  "The  condition  of  that  poor  boy 
touches  me  deeply.  I  spoke  to  Dr.  Conium,  who 
stands  at  the  head  of  our  faculty,  about  him,  and 
requested  his  attention  to  him." 

"Yes;    they  told  me — the  doctor  sent.     Poor  Mrs. 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  113 

Warner  is  so  weak  as  to"have  an  unconquerable  aver 
sion  to  clinics;  fearing  the  effect  upon  her  long  se 
cluded  child  of  three  or  four  hundred  inquisitive,  noisy 
students." 

"  You  surprise  me.  That  proceeding  is  Conium's, 
and  I  am  not  to  be  held  answerable  for  it.  Love  of 
science,  amounting  to  a  passion,  I  suppose  explains  it," 
responded  Bloker. 

"Perhaps,  sir;  good  manners  don't,  in  the  light  of 
your  statement." 

"I  hear  Miss  Jane  Warner  is  praised  for  a  fine 
understanding,"  said  Bloker. 

"And  justly." 

"  When  I  saw  her,  several  years  since,  I  thought  her 
rather  pretty." 

"About  that  opinions  may  vary;  she  is  certainly 
not  the  reverse,"  said  Emily,  with  womanly  noncom- 
mittalism. 

"One  of  my  clerks  tells  me  that  she  was  a  belle  at 
Leasowes,  last  summer — very  amiable  and  gay,"  said 
Bloker,  dubiously  smiling,  though  not  obtrusively. 
"Garth  was  rapturous  about  her;  I  overheard  him 
depicting  in  the  counting-room  the  happiness  of  late 
dances  and  moonlight  drives.  But  Garth,  I  believe,  is 
fresh  at  watering-places,  and  like,  enough  mistook 
the  young  lady's  toleration  for  favor." 

"Her  friends  consider  her  discreet." 

"0,  I  dare  say  she  is.  No  one  who  knows  the  world 
will  regard  the  rattle  of  a  smitten  and  prating  boy.  I 
hope  that  she  will  make  a  good  marriage." 

The  deshabille  conversation  of  the  Belair  ladies, 
10* 


114  THE   HOETO*NS;    OR 

while  they  were  arranging  their  hair  for  the  night, 
among  other  topics,  touched  upon  Jacob  Bloker. 

"I  can't  think  so  ill,  Emily,  of  our  fastidious  bache 
lor  as  you  do.  I  grant  that  he  might  be  thawed  to 
advantage,  but  predominating  duplicity  I  don't  dis 
cern." 

"That  "Warner  business?"  asked  Emily. 

"Shabby,  if  you  reject  his  explanation,  but  not  that 
I  see  deceitful."  ^ 

"Well,  Carrie,  I  can't  translate  tone  and  manner  into 
words,  but  to  me  they  are  reasons;  and  if  I  had  no 
reasons,  I  have  an  instinctive  dislike  to  him." 

"Life's  a  battle,  in  which  such  instincts  are  some 
times  conquered,"  said  Caroline,  merrily,  as  she  took 
her  candle  and  bade  her  friend  Good-night. 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME. 


115 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

Snug. — Have  you  the  lion's  part  written?  pray  you,  if  it  be,  give  it 
me,  for  I  am  slow  of  study. 

Quince. — You  may  do  it  extempore,  for  it  is  nothing  but  roaring. 

Bottom. — Let  me  play  the  lion  too.  I  will  roar,  that  I  will  do  any 
man's  heart-good  to  hear  me:  I  will  roar,  that  I  will  make  the  duke  say, 
Let  him  roar  again:  let  him  roar  again. — MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM. 

his  Sittings  to  and  from  The  Cedars, 
Bradley  Horton  passed  through  the 
flourishing  village  of  Slumptown.  It 
was  an  ancient  place  impelled  by  a  rail 
road  to  suburban  issues  of  wooden  archi 
tecture.  There  were  churches  with 
Gothic  fronts  of  stuccoed  pine,  in  the 
well-known  style  of  the  middle  ages, 
and  a  square  weather-stained  court-house 
of  brick,  which  'was  margined  with 
maple  trees  and  flanked  by  its  attendant  jail.  Slump- 
town  had  its  lawyers,  who  preyed  on  the  politics  of 
the  region,  or  passed  their  vulturine  lives  in  scenting 
for  lean  retainers  in  assault-and-battery  cases,  and,  with 
rapacious  wrangle,  in  gorging  their  maws  from  the  car 
casses  01  encumbered  estates.  Of  course  Slumptown 
was  blessed  with  rival  editors,  who  maintained  a  state 
of  chronic  hostility ;  and  it  was  an  exquisite  display  of 


116  THE   HORTONS;   OB 

reciprocal  unconsciousness  when  the  Palladium  passed 
the  Spirit  of  Jefferson  upon  the  street.  'There  was  an 
opulence  of  "  store  goods"  on  Court-house  square,  the 
trading  and  professional  centre  of  the  town ;  an  open 
air  arrangement  about  doors  and  porches  of  hay -rakes, 
pitch-forks  and  scythes,  brooms,  rolls  of  carpet, 
crockery,  horse-collars,  and  straw  hats;  and  at  a  heavy 
dealer's,  perhaps,  there  was  placed  an  empty  sugar 
hogshead  conspicuously  in  the  way;  while  two  or 
three  "Cheap  Johns,"  with  city- made  slops,  kept  the 
native  tailors  at  their  wits  ends  and  half-starved. 
There  was  a  bank  at  Slumptown,  which  held  mortgages 
on  half  of  the  county  farms,  and  which  occasioned  in  the 
minds  of  very  distant  people  a  lively  interest  in  the 
geography  of  the  place,  for  its  bills,  illustrated  by  a 
couchant  dog  before  a  prodigious  iron  chest  suggestive 
of  bullion  in  every  knob,  stuffed  the  wallets  of  drovers 
on  Illinois  prairies  and  were  carried  by  lumbermen  into 
the  forests  of  the  Atlantic  slope.  At  the  lyceum,  in 
weekly  debates,  Young  Slumptown  shaped  that  elo 
quence  which  was  to  rouse  from  the  rostrum  and  capti 
vate  the  senate.  Nor  was  Slumptown  unknown  to 
literature.  One  or  two  of  its  parsons  had  written 
books  which  were  printed,  and  it  boasted  of  a  sweet 
poetess  who  invoked  a  sappy  muse  over  three  initials 
and  an  asterisk. 

But  the  reputation  of  this  prosperous  borough  was 
subordinate  to  that  of  a  neighboring  locality.  Figura 
tively,  the  glorious  eagle  of  our  country  still  screamed 
in  triumph  over  the  battle-field  of  Hickory  Hollow. 
Eighty  years  of  peaceful  tillage  had,  indeed,  obliterated 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT  HOME.  117 

every  trace  of  conflict;  the  rural  historians  who  had 
repulsed,  in  willing  narratives  over  their  cider  on 
winter  nights,  the  English  grenadiers,  slept  with  their 
fathers;  but  the  surrounding  population  sometimes 
assembled  among  "the  embattled  corn"  to  sustain  their 
patriotism  with  the  reminiscences  of  a  martial  anni- 
ver<«ary.  On  such  occasions  in  the  olden  time,  a  citizen 
reac?  the  immortal  Declaration,"  and  an  orator,  usually 
a  fledgling  of  the  law,  anatomized  the  British  lion; 
whereupon  the  people  gravitated  in  content  to  roast  ox 
and  rum  and  water.  But  at  length  these  celebrations 
became  the  outcries  of  political  parties  against  each 
other,  either  of  which,  in  turn,  was  the  orthodox 
exponent  of  the  temper  of  the  purer  days  of  the 
Republic,  and  its  opponent  hostile  to  every  moral  and 
material  interest  of  the  country. 

And  so  it  was,  that  as  Bradley  Horton  and  the  anni 
versary  of  the  battle  of  Hickory  Hollow  came  together, 
they  found  Slumptown  in  a  political  ferment.  The 
fences  were  eloquent  with  posters  that  had  exhausted 
in  their  production  the  typographical  resources  of  the 
Palladium,  invoking  the  "Men  of  the  Old  Guard"  to 
assemble 

"  Like  the  winds  in  their  hurricane  wrath," 

and  ratify  the  nomination  for  Congress  of  "that  incor 
ruptible  patriot  and  zealous  champion  of  the  people," 
Adoniram  Slossom.  Long  before  noon  the  village  bar 
rooms  were  thronged  with  sovereign  citizens  who 
devoted  themselves  impartially  to  cocktails  and  con 
troversy;  and  the  streets  and  stable  yards  had  grown 
populous  with  groups  of  disputants,  that '  suddenly 


118  THE  HORTONS;    OB 

scattered,  from  time  to  time,  in  the  very  crisis  of  argu 
merit,  when  the  thick  coming  vehicles  laden  with  fresh 
patriots  rattled  bravely  up,  or  a  couple  of  inebriated 
wranglers  passed  from  polemics  to  pugilism.  There 
came,  in  disciplined  array,  the  Slumptown  Invincibles, 
and  the  Slossom  Irrepressibles,  with  their  bands.  Then 
followed  the  Carthage  Cadets,  and  the  New-Egypt 
Look-Arounds,  with  their  bands.  There  was  marching 
and  counter-marching;  huzzaing  and  flag-flaunting; 
and  a  showering  from  female  Slumptown  of  wreaths 
and  bouquets.  A  traveling  menagerie,  adroitly  ar 
ranged  for,  excited  to  a  higher  pitch  the  interest  of  the* 
populace. 

There  was  to  be  a  "mass  meeting,"  a  presentation, 
and  a  barbecue  during  the  day,  and  at  night  a  torch 
light  procession.  A  platform  in  an  adjacent  grove, 
decorated  with  banners,  upon  which  were  inscribed 
inspiriting  watchwords  and  appeals,  was  surrounded,  in 
due  course,  by  the  multitude,  which  was  rigorously 
excluded  from  an  inclosure  containing  hastily  con 
structed  tables  of  rough  deal,  destined  to  receive  great 
lumps  of  beef  and  pork  cut  from  the  spitted  carcasses. 
A  corpulent  gentleman  with  a  moist  and  red  face,  at 
the  appointed  time,  elbowed  forward  among  magnates 
of  the  day,  newspaper  reporters,  and  a  swarm  of 
political  fry,  who  were  upon  the  stage,  and  proposed 
an  organization: 

"I  nominate,  fellow-citizens,  for  president  of  this 
meeting,  Algernon  Sidney  Briggs,  esquire.  Those 
who  are  in  favor,  will  say,  '  Aye.' " 

There   was   a  general   affirmance;    whereupon   the 


AMERICAN    LIFE   AT   HOME.  119 

names  of  sixty-four  vice-presidents  and  thirty-two 
secretaries  were  similarly  submitted.  Then,  Alger 
non  Sidney  Briggs,  esquire,  introduced  Expectation 
Biles,  esquire,  to  read  the  resolutions,  which  were  very 
full,  and  very  fierce. 

Expectation  Biles,  esquire,  was  to  one  of  his  auditors 
a  new  appearance  of  an  old  acquaintance.  Bradley 
had  met  him  on  the  Paris  boulevards  and  in  the  cafes, 
usually  with  profuse  Americans,  whom  Biles  contrived 
to  know,  and,  perhaps,  to  serve,  for  the  gains  that 
flowed  from  their  generosity ;  the  nature  of  Biles  being 
parasitic  but  not  prodigal.  And  here  he  was  again  on 
the  Slumptown  boards,  as  self-important  and  bustling 
as  ever.  In  the  many  parts  played  by  Expectation, 
one  consistent  result  was  always  held  in  view — Biles. 
And  thus  it  was  that  opinions — and  there  are  people 
of  leisure  who  will  form  opinions  of  anybody — differed 
concerning  him ;  one  observer  designating  him  a  blus 
terer,  and  another  insisting  that  he  was  a  sycophant 
and  a  sneak.  Biles  was  possessed  of  a  passion  to 
write  for  the  ephemeral  press,  and  for  its  sort  of  scrib 
ble  his  was  the  best  of  styles,  florid  and  floaty,  which 
never  took  the  reader's  breath  below  the  surface.  His 
translations,  conspicuously  claimed  in  the  head-lines, 
of  French  tales  for  the  Sunday  newspapers,  were  among 
his  happiest  efforts,  and  gave  harmless  satisfaction 
to  the  milliners'  apprentices.  As  a  Secretary  of  the 
Central  Kepublican  Concatenation,  pitying  the  inca 
pacity  of  his  associates,  and  fearing  for  the  national 
welfare,  he  appropriated  the  correspondence  list,  and 
magnified  the  cause  by  means  of  this  patriotic  larceny 


120  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

in  an  epistolary  profusion  over  his  own  proper  signa 
ture.  In  the  enumeration  of  his  "literary  distinctions/' 
to  employ  the  language  of  his  friend  "Wriggle  of  the 
Bugle,  his  famous  Keports  of  the  decision  in  the  great 
Split  Pea  case,  (Podde  vs.  Pulz,)  and  on  the  interdiction 
of  the  East-Manse  Review  by  the  Anchorsmiths'  Athe- 
neum,  must  not  be  omitted.  As  an  inventor,  too,  he 
was  conceded  a  reputation  for  having  given  to  the  culi 
nary  world  an  improved  gridiron,  and  to  the  agricul 
tural  a  patented  double-action  dog  churn.  He  had 
been  a  conservative,  but  was  become,  since  it  was 
likely  the  political  tangle  would  untwist  that  way,  a 
high-seasoned  Republican,  with  his  own  little  reel  to 
make  fast  to  the  public  skein ;  though  he  held  also  the 
"popular-sovereignty"  knot  while  there  was  any  doubt. 
He  believed,  on  moral  principle,  in  empty  treasuries 
for  parties  out  of  power,  as  preventive  of  corruption; 
so  his  nummary  contributions  to  the  Concatenation 
were  small  and  infrequent.  Articles  of  utility,  indeed, 
he  held  to  be  innocent  gifts,  and  he  presented  to  the 
club  a  new  coal-scuttle  of  galvanized  iron  on  the  day 
after  the  party  carried  the  State  election  by  a  large 
majority.  Expectation  Biles,  esquire,  read  the  reso 
lutions. 

Several  distinguished  "speakers"  from  abroad  ad 
dressed  the  assemblage,  among  whom  were  the  "  War1- 
horse  of  the  West,"  and  the  celebrated  "Converted 
Blacksmith."  The  latter,  having  renounced  the  errors 
of  Democracy,  was  on  a  mission  for  the  propagation  of 
the  true  faith,  and  he  made  a  horse-shoe  with  imposing 
exactness  at  a  forge  beside  the  stage  to  authenticate  his 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT  HOME.  121 

vulcanian  pretensions — Expectation  Biles,  esquire,  offi 
ciating  spasmodically  at  the  bellows. 

But  the  most  interesting  event  of  the  day  was  the 
presentation  to  Senator  Sparhawk  of  an  exhumed 
cannon-ball,  which,  after  having  lain  imbedded  for 
three-quarters  of  a  century  in  the  memorable  soil  of 
Hickory  Hollow,  had  been  produced  by  a  curious  well- 
digger  to  serve  as  a  public  testimony  of  that  eminent 
statesman's  efforts  in  the  cause  of  compromise  and  con 
ciliation.  The  ceremony,  though  simple,  was  im 
pressive.  Mr.  Mordeoai  Dabster,  aglow  with  inspira 
tion  and  "Bourbon,"  made  the  presentation  speech. 
He  was  elegantly  attired  in  a  blue  coat,  scarlet  waist 
coat,  and  trousers  of  a  delicate  shade  of  sorrel,  made 
somewhat  scanty  to  display  a  crural  symmetry,  since 
Tully  himself  would  have  been  nothing  without  legs. 
At  either  side  of  him,  mounted  upon  candle-boxes, 
were  his  friend  Biles  and  the  editor  of  the  Palladium, 
upholding  at  much  personal  inconvenience  the  national 
flag  in  the  most  classic  canopy  style.  Close  by,  and 
facing  him,  stood  the  Senator,  practising  with  little 
success  an  appearance  of  meek  indifference.  At  the 
critical  moment,  when  the  silence  of  expectancy  was 
most  profound,  Dabster  began. 

"Venerable  Man!  When  I  behold  this  surging  sea  of 
upturned  faces;  in  each  eye  the  fire  of  moral  dignity 
and  civil  freedom;  when  I  contemplate  the  memories 
summoned  by  this  consecrated  place;  when  I  see,  in 
limey,  trooping  ghosts  of  heroes  clad  in  the  battle 
panoply  of  other  days ;  or  behold  Liberty  herself,  divine 
goddess,  lingering  fondly  to  inhale  these  Hickory  Hoi- 
11 


122  THE   HOKTONS;    OR 

low  breezes,  I  find  it  difficult  to  realize  fully  the  sub 
limity  of  the  scene;  and  in  this  dilemma  I  expect  I  am 
not  solitary  and  alone. 

Sir:  What  shifting  spectacles  are  presented  in  the 
panorama  of  our  history!  First,  the  aboriginal  red 
man  of  the  forest,  with  his  bow,  his  wampum,  and  his 
bark  canoe.  The  startled  deer  flies  no  more  before  his 
unerring  arrow;  his  withering  whoop  rouses  no  more 
the  echoes  of  the  swamp ;  his  picturesque  prow  has  long 
since  ceased  to  glide  over  the  glassy  bosom  of  the  lake. 
In  the  beautiful  language  of  your  fair  SI  amp  town  bard, 
in  her  poem  of  the  '  Disconcerted  Tomahawk,' 

•  Like  a  girdled  tree  in  the  arms  of  the  blast, 
Wainpanocussit  has  shrieked  his  last !' 

Suddenly  the  kaleidoscope  changes.  Serried  ranks 
of  marshalled  veterans  appear.  The  mercenary  min 
ions  of  despotism  these,  and  above  them  floats  the  red 
cross  of  Saint  George.  From  our  rock-bound,  ocean- 
lashed  shore  our  country's  eagle  descried  the  approach 
ing  host,  and  screamed  defiance.  Then,  from  valley, 
and  mountain,  and  the  gloomy  recesses  of  the  wilder 
ness,  our  forefathers  rushed  to  the  tented  field,  to  the 
inspiriting  strains  of  'Yankee  Doodle.'  Senator!  this 
ball  was  shot  from  a  British  gun ;  and  is  a  trophy  of  that 
perilous  and  immortal  time.  (Sensation.)  Cherish  it 
in  your  heart  of  hearts !  Bequeath  it  unimpaired  to 
your  remotest  posterity  I 

Time^rolled  on,  and  there  came  another  tussle  with 
the  presumptions  tyrant  of  the  seas.  History  will 
tell  you,  sir,  how  it  eventuated.  In  defeat;  after  the 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  123 

smoke  and  carnage  of  battle;  by  flood  and  field; 
England  lowered  her  haughty  crest,  crowned  with  a 
thousand  triumphs,  to  the  Young  Giant  of  the  West, 
aching  with  his  strength.  But,  if  we  are  a  great  and 
glorious,  we  are  a  modest  people,  and  will  not  exult. 
Though  we  can  be  cantankerous,  thanks  to  our  enlignt- 
ened  institutions,  we  are  not  conceited.  3STor,  although. 
a  military,  are  we  a  rileable  people.  Terrible  in  our 
anger,  and  full  of  poison  as  a  mad  bull  of  the  prairie 
innoculated  with  rattlesnake  bites,  we  are  slow  to 
wrath. 

But  it  is  also  the  triumphs  of  peace  which  we  are 
assembled  this  day  to  celebrate.  We  are  here  to 
rejoice  that  our  boasted  heritage  is  to  be  rescued  from 
the  debauched,  demoralized,  diabolical,  and  rapacious 
party  to  which  we  are  opposed.  That  miserable 
conglomeration,  too  long  permitted  to  prey  upon  a 
confiding  people,  is  destined  to  simmer  out  before  the 
irresistible  onslaught  of  the  great  Eepublican  host. 
The  craven  who  contents  himself  with  skulking  now, 
instead  of  breathing  the  air  of  God's  blue  welkin, 
might  manage  to  exist,  and  to  fish  out  of  the  miasma 
of  his  own  degradation  a  disgusting  subsidy,  like  the 
rag-pickers  who  filch  a  livelihood  from  the  alleys  and 
sidewalks  of  life,  but  he  will  go  down  to  posterity 
iinmourne.d  and  unsung. 

Fellow  Citizens!  The  bugles  of  our  advance  are 
sounding  to-day  in  Slumptown!  Our  slogan  rouses 
to-day  the  echoes  of  a  continent!  Hickory  Hollow 
shouts  to  the  great  lakes,  and  from  their  joyful  bosoms 
bounds  the  patriotic  thunder  to  the  absolute  and 


121  THE  HORTONS;   OR 

applauding  sea!  Europe,  benighted  Europe,  hears  it 
in  her  Tuileries  and  Saint  James's  Park.  The  hour  is 
come — where  is  the  man?  (cries  of  'Sparhawk!' 
'There  he  stands,  old  hoss!'  and  tremendous  cheers.) 
For  the  auspicious  result  which  awaits  us,  no  one, 
Senator!  has  labored  more  efficaciously  than  yourself. 
A  nation  honors  you;  a  nation  too  long  betrayed, 
but  never  dismayed.  When  it  has  rid  itself  of  the 
foul  faction  which  oppresses  it,  in  the  day  of  its 
supremacy  it  will  remember  and  reward  its  Spar- 
hawk!" 

The  eloquence  of  Dabster  stirred  the  pulses  of  the 
multitude,  and  when  it  culminated  in  the  peroration 
the  applause  was  uproarious.  The  bands  played  "Hail 
to  the  Chief!"  and  the  Senator  responded.  The  popular 
estimate  of  the  distinguished  gentleman's  oratory  was 
not  flattering;  in  comparison  of  the  brilliant  rhetoric 
which  had  preceded  it,  it  appeared  very  tame  and 
common-place,  and  hardly  superior  to  the  talk  of  an 
educated  and  sensible  person.  There  was  in  it  no  im 
passioned  invective,  mellifluent  portrayal,  nor  apposite 
imagery,  like  Dabster's.  This  man  who  sits  in  a  curule 
chair  and  is  oracular  in  the  Capitol,  follows  Dabster's 
pinions  on  these  poor  pin-feathers! 

As  Bradley  was  passing  to  his  room  in  the  Slossorn 
House,  a  human  head,  cautiously  protruded  into  the 
hall  from  a  half-opened  door,  attracted  his  attention. 
At  a  glance  he  recognized  the  globous  summit  of 
Scroggs,  and  saluted  him. 

"You  here!" 

"The  very  man  1  wanted — come  in,"  said  Bartimeus 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  125 

"  I  didn't  see  you  at  the  meeting." 

"  No :  the  fact  is,  -I'm  not  expected  till  the  night  train, 
when  they  have  arranged  to  serenade  me,  so  I  keep 
close." 

"And  very  judicious  of  you  not  to  draw  off  the 
enthusiasm  prematurely,"  assented  Bradley. 

"I'm  preparing  a  speech  for  the  occasion,  and  I  can't 
make  it  suit  me.  Lord  Brougham,  I  am  told,  recom 
mends  writing  out  your  speeches  beforehand.  A  deal 
of  trouble  to  take,  but  its  a  duty,  even  if  there  is  no 
money  in  it.  How  did  Dabster  come  off — was  he 
pathetic?" 

"There  was  more  of  the  sentimental  than  the  tender 
in  his  harangue,  I  think,"  said  Bradley. 

"  If  you  can  spare  the  time  to  look  over  this  rough 
copy,  and  touch  it  up  a  little,  you  will  greatly  oblige 
me.  Supply  any  flourishes  that  strike  you — you 
know.  I  prefer  a  plain,  fundamental  style,  without 
many  big  words;  though  you  may  put  as  much  fire  in 
it  as  you  please,"  said  Scroggs. 

"Some  of  the  Demosthenian  .vehemence?"  asked 
Bradley,  laughing. 

"I  dunno,"  replied  Scroggs,  dubiously.  "Demos 
thenes  might  say  what  he  chose;  there  was  no  scrub 
reporters  to  make  fun  by  telegraph  in  the  morning 
newspapers." 

"I'll  take  it  and  do  what  I  can,  willingly,"  said 
Bradley. 

"Half  a  minute!"  cried  Scroggs  into  the  passage. 
"Couldn't  you  contrive  a  slight  touch  of  the  pathetic?" 

11* 


126  THE   HORTONS;   OB 


CHAPTEE   XY. 

The  harbor-bay  was  clear  as  glass, 
So  smoothly  it  was  strewn  ! 
And  on  the  bay  the  moonlight  laj, 
And  the  shadow  of  the  moon. 

THE  ANCIENT  MARINER. 

\T  was  one  of  the  last  of  the  night  excui 
•sions  by  water  in  the  season,  and  upon 
the  ample  deck  of  the  Arrow  there  was 
assembled  a  polite  company.  The  brac 
ing  temperature  of  early  autumn,  moon 
light  and  music,  produced  an  exhilara 
tion  which  manifested  itself  in  the  mer 
riment  of  the  promenaders,  and  the 
sprightly  measures  of  the  dance.  The 
dusky  waiters  in  white  jackets,  emerging 
from  darker  back -grounds  with  trays  of  ices,  grinned 
their  enjoyment  over  their  gelid  offerings.  Even  the 
oouderous  man,  who  flung  himself  upon  the  chain-box 
^n  emergencies  to  give  the  boat  a  list,  and  who  passed 
a  life  of  meditation  and  shirt-sleeves,  relaxed  to  a  taci 
turn  approval,  and  looked  on. 

"Yes,  the  ripple's  gleam  is  pretty,  to  be  sure,"  said 
Doctor  Pledget;  repeating  sotto  voce, 

"  'And  on  the  bay  the  moonlight  lay, 
And  the  shadow  of  the  moon.' 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  127 

Had  we  only  the  Mellen  here  to  help  Miss  Horton 
outsparkle  it!  I  owe  neuralgia  a  special  spite,  and 
shall  take  care  to  accumulate  the  aconite  in  the  very 
next  case." 

"We  must  be  content,  doctor,  to  take  our  bliss  as 
the  Fates  allot  it;  and  I  confess  it  comes  in  pleasant 
parcels,"  said  Bloker,  glancing  at  Emily  Horton. 

"I  venerate  wisdom,  for  it  was  my  grandam's — dear 
old  lady!  there  was  something  a  little  foxish  in  her 
knack  at  undervaluing  a  grapy  altitude — for  the  rest,  I 
think,  if  it's  not  immoral,  that  water  Mellens  are  sea 
sonable,"  replied  the  doctor. 

"How  fresh  a  smell  of  the  soil  the  breeze  brings," 
said  Emily. 

"I  believe  few  climates  have  weather  which  sur 
passes  that  of  our  first  two  fall  months.  You  have  got 
past  the  summer's  glare  and  languor,  which  make  you 
think  too  much  of  your  bodies,  the  air  is  a  tonic,  and 
you  are  pervaded  by  a  sans  souci  feeling,"  remarked 
Mr.  Horton. 

"Apropos  of  that,"  said  the  doctor,  "I  got  a  letter 
to-day,  from  a  friend  in  England,  which  contained  a 
request  for  a  box  of  our  October  leaves.  I  sent  her 
some  last  year,  and  she  thought  them  painted.  I  wrote 
her  that  the  artist  was  a  Pre-Eaphaelite,  and  that  the 
coloring  was  laid  on  in  oxygen." 

"They  will  make  pretty  head-dresses,"  said  Emily. 

"O  yes;  Bull  will  drop  from  his  short-horns  to 
patronize  the  glory  of  our  Indian  Summer  in  all  its 
bright  diversities  as  seen  by  London  gaslight,"  grum 
bled  the  doctor. 


128  THE   HOETONS;    OR 

"Your  barren  leaves,  like  barren  lives,  will  don  a 
gay  wardrobe — but  'tis  a  stale  moral,"  said  Emily. 

"Do  you  see!  there's  somebody  overboard,"  ex 
claimed  the  doctor,  who  sat  next  to  the  rail. 

There  was  a  wild  cry  on  the  forward  deck  of,  "Stop 
the  boat!"  and  general  confusion.  The  pilot's  bell 
tinkled  peremptorily,  and  the  engines  ceased  their 
,  motion.  The  headway  of  the  vessel,  however,  could 
not  be  instantly  checked,  and  some  time  was  consumed 
in  lowering  a  boat.  In  the  track  of  moonlight  astern  a 
swimmer  could  be  plainly  seen,  seemingly  hampered 
by  a  burden,  but  bearing  bravely  up.  It  was  calm, 
and  the  tardy  rescue  was  in  time,  and  just  in  time.  A 
black  waiter  had  saved  the  boy  of  the  black  cook. 
That  was  all;  and  the  engineer,  having  expressed  him 
self  with  an  oath,  started  the  wheels  again.  The  cap 
tain  did  not  swear,  but  he  was  very  peppery  at  the  out 
rage. 

"  A  pretty  piece  of  presumption,  I  admit,  in  a  fellow 
who  is  only  a  vulgar  fraction  of  the  curse  of  Ham; 
yet,  after  all,  the  rascal  plunged  for  the  drowning  lad 
something  like  a  white  man,"  observed  Pledget  to  the 
incensed  skipper. 

"I  don't  mean  to  say  here  isn't  a  worthy  fellow,  but 
a  New-Foundland  dog  would  have  done  it,"  said 
Bloker. 

"The  better  for  the  dog,  then.  Perhaps,  though,  the 
dog  practises  an  instinct  without  estimating  values  or 
chances.  The  dog  will  go  overboard  as  soon  for  a 
duck  as  for  Dives,  and  we  wouldn't,  you  know,  my 
dear  sir.  The  ethnologists  who  trace  our  resemblances 


AMERICAN    LIFE   AT   HOME.  129 

in  ebony  to  an  improved  gorilla  with  an  exceptional 
brain-knob,  don't  ascribe  to  them  aquatic  tendencies, 
that  I  hear — while  they  justly  insist  on  the  whole  heel, 
and  even  insinuate  the  plantigrade,  they  do  not  warrant 
webbed  toes." 

"0!  a  very  creditable  act,"  said  Bloker,  observing 
the  ladies  to  be  much  interested;  "Nature  sounds  us 
all  with  the  same  plummet,  and  it  will  dip  deep  in 
the  dark.  It  would  be  quite  right  for  somebody  to 
start  a  subscription." 

"  Let  Doctor  Pledget  tell  us  a  merry  story  to  calm 
our  nerves  after  this  horrid  fright,  and  then,  Mr. 
Bloker,  you  can  collect  a  purse." 

"Yes,  yes;  give  us  a  composing  draught  for  our 
nerves — a  draught  on  your  imagination,  doctor — a 
story  I"  was  the  cry  in  concert. 

"Story,  my  beautiful  and  beloved,  I  have  none  to 
tell.  If  a  little  authentic  biography  would  suffice — ." 

"That  would  be  rare,  indeed!"  they  exclaimed. 

"  Then  you  shall  have  a  narrative  of  the  sufferings  of 

MY  NERVOUS  PATIENT. 

"My  friend  and  patient,  Mr.  Jeptha  Bullwrinkle, 
was  a  bachelor.  Whether  he  had  ever  solicited  or 
been  sought,  I  know  not;  I  am  too  incurious  to  pry 
in  the  private  cabinets  of  my  acquaintance  for  stray 
arrows  from  the  quiver  of  the  beetle-headed  son  of  the 
Paphian.  After  this  confession  I  need  hardly  ass  are 
you  that  I  am  regarded  as  a  bungling  charlatan  by  the 
ladies  of  our  Dorcas  society.  When  I  first  saw  my 
friend  Bullwrinkle — I  had  been  hastily  summoned  to 


130  THE   HOKTOXS;   OR 

visit  him  at  midnight  in  my  professional  character — he 
was  a  mild-mannered  person,  on  the  hither  side  of  fifty, 
with  a  large  bald  spot  on  the  crown  of  his  head, 
restrained  leg-of-mutton  whiskers  of  a  faded  sanguine 
hue,  and  an  aquiline  /nose ;  acd  he  was  a  bachelor.  It 
was  in  the  cholera  time.  He  felt  uneasy,  and  judi 
ciously  dreaded  spasms.  I  prescribed  with  appropriate 
promptitude.  At  my  next  visit  he  informed  me  that 
he  had  detected  the  odor  of  asafcetida  in  the  physic. 
Had  he  not  recovered,  this  narration  would  be  impos 
sible. 

My  friend  Bullwrinkle  hated  noise  and  novelty.  His 
grandfather,  by  the  maternal  side,  had  been  blown  up 
in  the  explosion  of  a  powder  mill,  and  had  involuntarily 
introduced  a  new  sensation  into  the  family.  There  was 
also  a  tradition  that  a  near  collateral  relative,  an 
Arkansas  gentleman  of  some  property,  had  lost  with 
chivalric  resignation  an  ear  by  the  teeth  of  a  fellow- 
citizen  for  declining  to  vote  the  Democratic  ticket. 
Whatever  influence  these  incidents  may  have  exerted 
upon  the  characters  of  the  Bull  wrinkles,  it  was  com 
monly  observed  that  they  were  either  all  lion  or  all 
hare,  and  that  there  was  nothing  hybrid  about  them. 
So,  there  was  an  aeronautic  Bullwrinkle,  oftener  com 
plimented  for  courage  than  veracity;  and  a  marine 
Bullwrinkle,  who  for  moral  and  physical  toughness 
might  have  competed  with  Captain  Kyd  on  his  own 
quarter-deck, 

' when  he  sailed.' 

The  reticent  and  retiring  members  of  the  family  were 
best  described  by  negatives.  They  were  never  pro- 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  131 

claimed  "  public-spirited  citizens"  in  the  blare  of  news 
paper  trumpeting;  they  never  were  among  the  "dis 
tinguished  gentlemen"  who  consented  to  address 
political  meetings;  they  did  not  affect  the  militia. 

"Within  a  year  after  my  nocturnal  introduction  to  my 
patient,  his  estimable  uncle,  Hezekiah  Bullwrinkle, 
died  at  the  Italian  town  of  Avellino  of  a  slow  fever, 
which  was  aggravated,  it  was  thought,  by  unpleasant 
telluric  rumblings  and  a  sudden  eruption  of  ashes  from 
Mount  Vesuvius.  He  bequeathed  to  his  nephew  Jeptha, 
in  the  testamentary  language,  "because  of  the  strong 
sense  which  he  exhibited  when  a  youth  in  accompany 
ing  me  to  fish  in  the  country  on  the  occasion  of  the 

arrival  at of  General  Jackson  and  Black-Hawk,  in 

their  fussy  tour  of  1833,"  his  spacious  mansion  in  our 
pleasant  city,  its  library,  pictures,  and  furniture. 

When  I  next  visited  my  patient  he  was  installed  in 
his  newly-acquired  domicile.  I  found  him  in  dressing- 
gown  and  slippers  superintending  the  placing  of  some 
padded  double-doors.  He  seemed  in  good  spirits,  and 
cheerfully  observed  that  there  was  a  case  of  concussion 
of  the  brain  near  by,  and  that  they  had  laid  the  street 
with  tan  the  previous  day.  Eemarking  that  he  was 
glad  to  notice  in  the  tables  of  mortality  an  absence  of 
contagious  diseases,  but  that  it  was  early  yet  for  small 
pox,  he  invited  me  to  partake  of  luncheon.  When  I 
had  regaled  on  cold  tongue  and  a  temperate  glass  of 
Madeira,  and  was  whisking  with  the  napkin  the  crumbs 
from  my  waistcoat,  chatting  the  while  in  a  contented 
tone,  he  interrupted  me  with  a  request  that  I  would 
tell  him,  after  auscultation,  if  I  thought  his  heart  a 


132  THE   HORTON3;    OR 

little  wrong;  and  gravely  appealed  to  my  candor.  I 
solemnly  assured  him  that  his  cardiac  mechanism 
worked  well,  and  recommended  him  to  the  country  for 
a  taste  of  the  fine  autumn  weather. 

It  was  in  February  that  I  was  again  summoned  to 
see  him.  He  was  bedridden  with  catarrh,  and  quite  ill. 
When  I  asked  him  for  the  history  of  his  sickness,  and 
he  replied  with  indignant  energy,  "desdeeple."  I 
thought  him  a  little  delirious.  As,  however,  he  in 
sisted  on  an  architectural  origin  for  his  ailment,  I 
requested  an  explanation.  The  congregation  of  the 
church  of  Mount  Zoar,  it  seemed,  had  quarreled  about 
the  qualifications  and  orthodoxy  of  a  new  pastor,  whom 
a  majority  of  the  magnates  had  called  to  its  pulpit. 
The  contention  was  of  that  unappeasable  kind  character 
istic  of  differences  in  the  same  communion.  After  two 
injunctions  had  been  obtained  from  the  courts,  and  all 
the  iniquities  of  the  deacons  who  took  sides  in  the  con 
troversy  had  been  made  to  appear,  the  flock  separated. 
The  seceders,  intent  on  the  erection  of  a  new  church, 
hit  upon  a  lot  of  ground  opposite  to  my  friend  Bull- 
wrinkle's,  and  bought  it.  Now,  here  was  a  carpenter's 
shop,  which,  as  a  precautionary  measure  against  racket 
and  fire,  my  patient  rented.  It  chanced  that  the  good 
people  of  the  Mount  Zoar  exodus  had  riveted  their 
purchase  before  he  got  wind  of  their  preference.  His 
chagrin  thereat  w*,s  great,  but  unavailing;  all  that 
remained  to  him  was  barren  invective,  and  a  view  of 
the  progress  of  the  enemy.  There  was  at  first  a  hope, 
which  sprang  from  the  emptiness  of  the  seceders' 
treasury,  but  it  was  illusive;  the  society  set  up  a  plea 


AMERICAN    LIFE   AT   HOME.  133 

of  persecution,  and  the  mites,  offerings,  and  subscrip 
tions  increased  amain.  Then,  there  was  an  obstinate 
irruption  of  water,  which  flooded  the  cellarage  and 
threatened  the  foundation;  but  the  offshot  Zoarites  got 
a  patent  pump,  and  dug  below  the  sponge.  A  stuccoed 
structure  rose,  in  brown  and  speckled  ugliness,  like  some 
huge  fossil  toad  of  the  Pre- Adamite  world.  There 
were  minor  disputes  concerning  a  clock  and  the  color 
of  the  interior,  and  there  was  a  strong  party  against  an 
organ, 'but  all  disagreement  ceased  at  the  steeple.  It 
was  unanimously  determined  that  it  should  illustrate 
superior  doctrinal  soundness,  and  exceed  in  altitude 
that  of  the  parent  church  full  twenty  feet.  It  was  of 
fragile  construction,  and  put  up  rapidly.  As  it 
ascended  by  daily  jumps,  toward  the  sailing  birds, 
apprehension  entered  into  the  mind  of  my  friend. 
The  spire,  at  length,  was  finished,  and — it  swerved 
from  the  perpendicular!  My  patient's  perturbation 
gushed  into  protest.  He  introduced  the  matter  to  the 
notice  of  the  grand-jury,  by  which  sagacious  body  it 
was  overlooked.  He  wrote  alarms  to  the  newspapers 
concerning  it,  and  was  answered  by  counter-communi 
cations  of  blended  denial  and  sarcasm.  When  storms 
howled  and  tempests  blew,  the  steeple  shook.  My 
friend  Bullwrinkle  expected  to  be  indecorously  buried, 
on  some  windy  night,  in  its  ruins.  It  was  while  out- 
watching,  in  thin  apparel  at  an  open  window,  the  con 
stellations,  and  trembling  at  every  blast  from  the  un 
ruly  West,  that  he  became  a  subject  for  deliberation 
and  drugs. 

Jeptha  Bullwrinkle  let  his  city  residence  to  a  flour- 
12 


134  THE   HOBTONS;    OR 

ishing  biscuit-baker,  who  had  sprung,  with  the  agility 
of  an  Egyptian  frog,  out  of  the  kneading-trough, 
and  whose  three  unmarried  daughters  in  ringlets 
were  possessed  with  cravings  for  fashionable  society. 
Gathering  his  penates,  he  retreated  to  a  lonely  dis 
trict  of  country  on  the  Chesapeake,  the  chief  produc 
tions  of  which  were  intermittent  fever  and  canvas-back 
ducks,  and  where  he  owned  a  sterile  property.  Here 
he  wooed  retirement,  and  dallied  with  its  charms.  But 
fate  was  stronger  than  the  rural  fascination.  As  he  sat, 
one  day,  on  the  stump  of  a  hill-side  chestnut,  and  sur 
veyed  in  a  meditative  mood  the  expanse  of  cattail  in 
the  marsh  below,  a  stranger  approached  and  accosted 
him. 

"Don't  know  me,  it  seems?  A  Bull  wrinkle — your 
cousin  Ignivomous,  author  of  '  Satanhoof :  A  Story  of 
the  Dark  Ages.' " 

"Of  course;  how  dull  I  am.  Yet  you  are  changed, 
and  I  did  not  dream  of  seeing  you — a  pleasure  alto 
gether  unexpected." 

"I  have  run  down  here  with  an  object;  to  be  frank, 
I  want  to  make  a  sensation.  I  have  a  new  book  in. 
press,  'The  Cadet  of  Carthagena,  or  the  Terror  of  tho 
Spanish  Main,'  and  I  am  on  a  mysterious  disappear 
ance." 

"A— what?" 

"You  don't  see  it,  eh!  It  will  be  in  all  the  journals 
of  the  country  to-morrow — telegraphed  everywhere. 
'An  inscrutable  mystery!  Foul  play  suspected!  That 
accomplished  gentleman  and  popular  author,  Igni 
vomous  Bullwrinkle,  esq.,  has  been  unaccountably 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME.  135 

missing  since — '  and  so  on.  The  mayor  will  probably 
offer  a  reward,  and  all  the  detectives  will  be  apprised, 
and  furnished  with  a  description  of  my  appearance.  I 
was  shot  at  only  three  months  ago — you  might  have 
chanced  upon  the  item,  for  it  was  widely  copied." 

"Shot  at!     Bless  me,  how  was  that?" 

"  It  was  the  result  of  a  business  arrangement  with 
Scurfee  Lake,  the  artist.  I  gave  his  'Descent  of  Pluto 
with  Proserpine'  a  column  puff,  and  in  return  he  put  a 
bullet  through  my  hat  at  a  lonely  place  among  the 
rocks,  and  then  testified  to  the  occurrence  as  a  naked 
fact  apart  from  the  pistoler's  personality.  Confirms 
public  suspicion — twig  ?" 

My  friend  Bullwrinkle  went  to  bed  that  night  a 
panic-stricken  man.  His  penetralia  were  no  longer 
sacred ;  his  prospect,  lately  so  serene,  was  clouded  with 
terrors.  His  guest  would  be  advertised — tracked,  and 
detectives  would  swarm  upon  him.  He  himself  would 
be  published  for  complicity;  perhaps  arrested.  Mount 
Zoar  would  be  jubilant.  He  would  be  deposed  from 
his  position  of  vice-president  of  the  Numismatic  So 
ciety.  His  days  became  spiritless,  his  nights  restless, 
and  his  meals  insipid.  Even  autorial  readings  of 
"Satanhoof"  failed  to  refresh  him.  Finally,  at  break 
of  day,,,  when  Mr.  Ignivomous  Bullwrinkle  was  in  a 
Salubrious  slumber,  he  left  a  hastily  written  note,  and 
fled  the  country. 

He  fled  the  country  for  such  security  as  might 
still  be  found  in  a  city  street.  He  took  comfortable 
apartments  remote  from  his  old  neighborhood.  For 
awhile  the  current  of  his  life  was  placid  in  its  flow ; 


136  THE    HOHTONS;       OR 

there  was  nothing  more  serious  than  a  brief-  fit  of 
neuralgia,  or  a  slight  decline  in  stocks,  to  disturb  his 
composure.  But  evil  days  were  at  hand.  His  landlord 
was  a  politician,  whose  time  was  generously  given  to 
the  affairs  of  the  nation  and  the  municipality.  These, 
under  the  stimulation  of  oft-repeated  "nips,"  and  ward- 
house  and  kerbstone  polemics,  he  contributed  to  settle. 
There  was  wanted  an  open-handed  candidate  to  com 
plete  the  ticket  for  the  common-council,  and  Jeptha 
Bullwrinkle  was  inveigled  into  an  acceptance  of  the 
nomination;  which  was  easily  "engineered,"  with  a 
profusion  of  whiskey,  in  the  back-room  of  Mr.  Terence 
O'Flaherty.  Then  came  the  annoyance  of  a  canvass; 
a  daily  depletion  of  the  purse,  unseasonable  conferences 
with  free-and-easy  "roughs,"  plotting  and  counter-plot 
ting,  and  an  importunate  mob  one  night  at  his  street 
door,  who,  to  his  speechless  terror,  demanded  an  har 
angue,  and  were  only  diverted  from  their  purpose  by 
a  liberal  banquet  hastily  supplied  in  the  parlors.  The 
day  of  election  arrived,  and  he  proceeded,  in  a  state  of 
tremulous  dignity,  to  the  precinct  poll  to  deposit  his 
ballot.  He  took  his  place  in  the  queue,  and  was 
replying  blandly  to  a  short-haired,  thick-necked  citi 
zen  in  a  red  flannel  shirt,  who  with  beery  fervor 
solicited  him  to  "vote  straight  along  and  go  in  for 
constertootional  liberty,"  when  a  cur,  which  was  hard- 
pressed  by  a  pursuing  crowd,  suddenly  turned  the 
corner  upon  him,  and  with  a  vindictive  snap  at  his 
obstructing-  legs,  glided  away  through  the  scattered 
throng. 

They    said    the    dog    was    mad.      They    profanely 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT  HOME.  137 

bawled  his  rabidness,  and  attested  it  by  his  capture 
and  execution.  I  was  absent  at  a  country  consulta 
tion,  and  my  friend's  summons  did  not  at  once  reach 
me.  When  I  returned,  I  found  him  in  agony  of  mind, 
surrounded  by  sympathizing  acquaintances  with  the 
woe  and  resignation  of  distinct  and  several  funerals  in 
their  faces.  Water  he  abhorred ;  they  had  even  taken 
away  the  suggestive  washstand  and  foot-bath.  There 
was  no  lack  of  advice  regarding  the  treatment  of  the 
case,  though  the  majority  agreed  that  recovery  was 
impossible.  One  believed  in  lobelia  and  steaming; 
and  another  in  homoeopathy  and  two  tumblers;  and  a 
persistent  old  lady,  with  more  than  Roman  firmness  in 
her  aspect,  insisted  on  giving  a  bark.  I  dismissed  the 
company  with  brief  ceremony,  and  was  defied  by  a 
parting  look  from  the  Roman  of  such  "grim  appear 
ance"  that  it  might  have  lineally  descended  from  that 
of  Coriolanus  when  he  met  Aufidius  at  Antium.  A 
scrutiny  of  my  patient's  condition  satisfied  me  that  it 
was  not  hydrophobia  with  which  I  had  to  deal,  but 
rather  .an  approach  to  hysteria.  After  some  prelimi 
nary  soothing,  I  dexterously  recalled  to  his  memory 
the  salutary  potion  which  I  had  exhibited  to  him  in 
the  cholera  time.  It  struck  his  vein,  and  he  declared 
that  he  thought  it  the  saving  remedy.  Immediately 
I  ordered  it  to  be  prepared  by  a  neighboring  apothe 
cary,  and  waited  to  administer  it;  keeping  my  patient's 
mind  the  while  free  from  fancies  by  a  continued  strain 
of  discourse.  He  took  the  drink  at  a  gulp,  without 
the  faintest  quiver  of  a  spasm;  and  I  left  him,  having 
much  diminished  his  solicitude  for  the  result.  He  was 
12* 


138  THE  HOETONS;    OR 

out  again  in  time  to  receive  condolements  on  the 
election  of  his  competitor  to  the  common-council,  and 
to  pay  the  price  of  a  surprise-serenade,  kindly  arranged 
by  his  landlord,  which  was  never  performed,  for  the 
celebration  of  his  own. 

"The  man  recovered  of  the  bite; 
The  dog  it  was  that  died." 

Nevertheless,  his  sympathizing  acquaintances  re 
solved  that  he  was  far  from  being  safe.  Appearances, 
they  said,  as  they  shook  their  heads  ominously  at  each 
other,  were  deceptive.  The  poison — virus  they  de 
lighted  to  term  it — they  declared  would  lie  latent  in 
the  human  system  for  years,  to  be  unexpectedly 
developed  to  the  fatal  fit.  They  were  curious  to  know, 
if  my  patient  felt,  at  times,  an  itching  in  the  suspected 
part ;  if  he  was  troubled  with  crawling  sensations  on  a 
ferry-boat;  or  recoiled  at  the  sudden  showing  of  a 
horse's  teeth.  Those  possessed  of  delicacy  of  feeling 
would  habitually  inquire  when  they  met  him,  in  a 
sepulchral  voice,  whether  he  was  getting  over  it? — 
were  there  any  symptoms?  Others  said  that  he  would 
have  to  wait  for  assurance  seven  years,  when,  for 
better  or  for  worse,  his  constitution  would  undergo  a 
crisis.  A  few  pestered  him  with  congratulations.  To 
travel  was  the  only  way  left  to  escape  this  inquisitional 
and  compassionate  persecution,  and  my  patient  deter 
mined  to  visit  Europe. 

The  procuring  of  his  passage- ticket  was  succeeded 
by  a  period  of  irresolution.  He  had  too  lightly  con 
sidered  the  perils  of  the  deep,  and,  inopportunely,  a 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT  HOME.  139 

steamer  had  just  gone  to  pieces  in  a  Newfoundland  fog. 
While  he  was  reconsidering  his  purpose,  an  official 
missive  was  handed  him.  He  cut  the  envelope  and 
extracted  a  fresh -minted  commission  which  designated 
him  a  brigadier-general.  He  came  at  once  to  a 
decision,  and  sailed  the  following  day.  He  grasped 
my  hand  at  parting,  as  we  stumbled  among  a  chaos 
of  luggage  upon  the  steamer's  deck.  'My  dear 
friend,'  he  said,  'I  shall  remember  you.  We  shall 
ramble  together,  though  apart;  the  quaint  old  streets 
of  the  Flemish  towns,  and  behold  together  Mont  Blanc 
rise  out  of  his  'silent  sea  of  pines'  with  a  morning 
greeting  to  his  sovereign  the  sun.  No  I  I  shall  never 
forget  your  kindness  and  your  skill;  and — you  do  not 
think  that  possibly  the  dog  was  mad?' 

When  I  last  heard  of  Jeptha  Bull  wrinkle,  he  was 
drinking  still  champagne  and  studying  the  pictures  at 
Florence." 

The  dance  went  blithely  on.  Bloker  and  Emily 
Horton  sat  apart,  he  beating  time  with  his  fingers  to 
the  music  and  making  occasionally  a  sterile  remark 
on  the  saltatory  scene,  which  she  acknowledged  in  a 
monosyllable,  withdrawing  for  the  moment  her  gaze 
from  the  vivid  and  frequent  flashes  of  lightning  which 
played  along  a  bank  of  cloud  risen  in  the  west. 

"Do  you  know  that  lady  with  the  rosebud  in  her 
fine  black  hair  ?" 

"No,  sir." 

"They  call  her  Julia.  I  noticed  her  earnestly  con 
gratulating  our  hero  of  the  night.  The  generous 


140  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

emotions  show  fittingly  in  a  fair  woman.  Without 
compassion,  for  instance,  I  think  a  woman's  nature 
is  incomplete." 

"The  sensibilities,  I  suppose,  were  intended  for 
human  nature,  irrespective  of  sex,"  said  Emily. 

"To  us,  the  rough  requirements  of  our  artificial  life 
well  nigh  prohibit  them.  And  there  is  less  fine  feeling 
than  there  seems.  The  world  is  full  of  spurious 
philanthropy,  put  on  to  jockey  the  world.  There's 
our  friend  Pledget,  now,  who  isn't  a  hypocrite,  because 
he  is  a  satirist." 

"If  a  man's  heart  is  not  calloused  by  covetousness,  I 
think  his  rougher  and  wider  experience  must  daily 
educate  it  in  benevolence,  even  if  it  loses  in  suscepti 
bility. 

'He  chid  their  wanderings,  but  relieved  their  pain.' 

A  man  knows  more  of  the  uncertainties  of  life,  the 
strength  of  temptations,  and  the  fallibility  of  opinions." 

"It  is  a  melancholy  admission,  but  I  fear  the  com 
merce  of  the  world  inevitably  makes  us  selfish,"  said 
Bloker. 

"It  is  not  strange  that  weakness  and  want,  which  are 
needy  and  apprehensive,  should  be  selfish;  but  self- 
reliance,  which  is  full  and  fearless,  should  be  liberal." 

"Some  people  with  no  conscience  to  speak  of,  are 
yet  too  proud  to  be  stingy,"  said  Bloker. 

"I  suppose  that  in  bad  men  of  capacity,  penurious- 
ness  is  sometimes  overcome  by  self-esteem,  or  by  a 
more  refined  selfishness  which  would  escape  the 
miserly  cares." 

"Yes,  there  is  a,  luxury  in  doing  good!"  exclaimed 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  141 

Bloker,  with  sudden  enthusiasm.  "Perhaps  it  isn't 
modest,  but  as  a  bit  of  experience,  I  may  say  that  now 
and  then  I  try  an  open  hand  at  disinterestedness,  after 
business  hours — that  sort  of  thing  comes  in  the  way  of 
every  man  of  the  world,  you  know — and,  at  the  least,  I 
fancy  I  find  afterwards  better  claret,  and  more  cheerful 
company  at  the  club." 

Bloker's  tone  of  composure  and  impersonality,  as  if 
he  were  stating  a  curious  discovery  in  natural  science, 
was  a  triumph  of  audacity.  And  what  was  the  mean 
ing  of  his  deference  for  Emily  Horton  ?  Was  it  any 
thing  akin  to  love,  or  was  it  even  a  strong  liking, 
which  prompted  him  to  prepare  his  way  to  the  position 
of  a  suitor?  Conjecture  might  have  ventured  in  seve 
ral  directions.  With  good  management,  Mr.  Horton's 
estate,  heavily  encumbered  as  it  was,  could  be  freed^ 
and  would  then  become  of  great  value.  There  was  a 
love  of  domination  in  the  man,  and  a  capability  of  a 
keen  enjoyment  of  conquest  after  repulses.  Perhaps, 
sordidly  shrewd,  he  would  not  disdain  to  employ  a 
virtuous  and  accomplished  wife  as  a  shield  for  his  own 
shortcomings.  Who  can  tell?  He  assailed  the  lady 
of  his  desire  perseveringly,  and  yet  not  with  over- 
boldness.  He  invested  alike  in  his  approaches,  her 
moral  convictions,  her  filial  affection,  and  her  personal 
tastes.  His  dissembling  was  various;  sometimes  trans 
parent,  but  generally  managed  with  tact.  He  was  not 
so  clumsy  as  to  pretend  to  be  severely  virtuous,  and, 
thereby  reaching  too  high,  to  overreach  himself.  His 
heart,  as  he  displayed  it,  was  a  well-arranged  organ  of 


142  TTTE   HOKTONS;    OR 

the  conventional  consistence — a  respectable  hollow 
muscle  not  extra  pulpy. 

The  suppressed  rumbling  of  thunder,  which  for  the 
last  half-hour  had  proclaimed  the  approach  of  a  storm, 
was  succeeded  by  a  startling  crash  directly  overhead. 
Then  came  a  sudden  burst  of  wind,  which  forced  the 
steamer  to  heel.  When  that  was  spent,  there  was  a 
minute  or  two  of  calm,  during  which  the  only  sounds 
were  the  straining  of  the  machinery  and  the  plunging 
of  the  boat  through  the  ruffled  water.  A  few  large 
drops  of  rain,  shot  pattering  upon  the  deck  and  hissing 
into  the  tide,  followed.  Another  great  explosion, 
lengthened  in  reverberations — then  others  in  shorten 
ing  intervals — and  all  the  tones  of  the  gathered  gust 
pealed  in  exultant  diapason  along  the  gleaming  vault 
of  heaven. 

The  storm  had  settled  to  a  steady  rain  when  the 
Arrow  reached  her  pier. 

""Cab! — carriage,  sir?" 

There  was  a  small  supply  of  vehicles  for  the  com 
pany,  and  Doctor  Pledget,  who  lingered,  was  cut  off 
from  his  companions  by  the  interposition  of  a  stout 
lady  terrified  from  a  rival  chaise." 

"0  no,  the  old  lady  needn't  git  out — by  no  means. 
Let  the  gent  in,  too;  don't  you  see  he's  standin'  in  the 
rain.  There's  precious  little  danger,  as  they  ain't  oats, 
of  their  being  run  away  with!"  from  a  sarcastic  cha 
rioteer. 

2  Keep  the  place,  ma'am,  and  I'll  find  another  some 
where,"  said  the  doctor,  in  reply  to  an  offer  to  vacate  it. 

But  the  carriages  that  remained  were  all  filled  to  the 


AMERICAN    LIFE    AT    HOME.  143 

boxes,  and  literally  and  figuratively  there  was  a  dull 
prospect.  Just  then  a  trap  clattered  around  the  corner 
gaslight  down  the  street. 

"In  time  to  take  you  home,  sir!"  exclaimed  the 
driver,  in  a  rather  patronizing  tone,  seeing  an  umbrel- 
laless  old  gentleman  with  a  west-end  look  alone  on  the 
wharf  at  midnight. 

"But,  my  friend,  you  have  a  fare  already,"  said  the 
doctor,  looking  into  the  coach. 

"Plenty  of  room,  sir;  it's  only  a  gentleman  with  a 
telescope." 

"A  what?"  asked  the  doctor,  in  some  perturbation. 
He  knew  he  smelled  whiskey,  and  thought  he  saw  a 
carbine. 

"Mr.  Smithers,  who  I  took  up  at  the  'Salutation;' 
the  gent  what  shows  the  heavenly  bodies,"  explained 
the  cabman. 

The  short  colloquy  aroused  the  astronomer  from  his 
slumber,  and  he  demanded  peremptorily  the  cause  of 
the  delay — 

"Hallo  I  what's  broke ?" 

"Ony  another  passenger  a  comia'  in,  Mr.  Smithers," 
soothingly. 

"Is  he  wet?  I'm  not  going  to  have  a  drainage  on  to 
my  instrument,  and  that's  the  whole  of  it." 

Finding  that  the  doctor  was  not  wringing-wet, 
thanks  to  the  shelter  of  a  freight  shed,  the  contem- 
platist  of  the  firmament  admitted  him. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  man  of  science 
when  he  could  survey  his  companion  in  the  light  of  a 


144  THE  HOKTONS;    OB 

street  lamp,  "for  seeming  bumptious,  being  woke  up 
sudden — these  hack  men  are  monstrous  aggravatin'." 

"Don't  mention  it,"  replied  the  doctor. 

Mr.  Smithers,  he  observed,  was  a  spare  man  with 
white  whiskers,  a  nose  which  outglowed  the  dog- 
star,  and  a  bird-like  way  of  carrying  his  head,  which 
might  have  been  due  either  to  the  telescope  or  the 
"Salutation,"  or,  as  was  most  likely,  to  a  combination 
of  the  two. 

"  These  storms,  which  is  frequent  of  late,  spoils  busi 
ness,  sir,"  said  Smithers. 

"By  shutting  up  the  planetary  system?" 

"Yes,  sir.  It  cuts  into  Jupiter  bad,  which  is  in 
season,  and  commands  quite  a  run." 

"We  had  a  fine  moon  in  the  early  part  of  the  night," 
said  the  doctor. 

"  That's  stock,  as  I  may  say ;  but  the  view  was  good. 
The  mountaineous  surface  was  mottled  as  perfect  as  I 
ever  seen  it — the  regular  castor-oil  in  coffee." 

"I  suppose  a  good  many  people  look?" 

"When  there's  novelties,  and  the  common  shows 
aint  a-drawing — :no  fool  a-blowing  of  himself  up,  or 
walking  on  his  head  on  a  wire.  It  was  a  hard  pull 
through  for  Saturn,  last  winter,  agin  the  horse-drama." 

"I  thought  you  always  have  Saturn  in  the  ring," 
said  the  doctor. 

"  Ha !  ha !  capital.  A  real  professional  joke.  I  must 
remember  that.  I  stop  here,  and  if  you'll  take  a  nip 
with  me,  there's  a  night-cellar  a  few  doors  off  I  can 
recommend.  Eather  not,  eh!  Well — evening,  sir." 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME. 


145 


CHAPTEE    XYI. 

An  orphan's  curse  would  drag  to  Hell 
A  spirit  from  on  high, 
But  oh!  more  horrible  than  that 
Is  a  curse  in  a  dead  man's  eye ! 

THE  ANCIENT  MARINER. 


JTH  aspect  as  serene  as  the  morn 
ing,  which  sent  buoyant  currents 
along  the  nerves  of  men,  Jacob 
Bloker  might  have  been  seen, 
next  day,  to  ascend  the  steps  of  a 
dwelling  in  a  well-built  quarter  of 
the  city.  Before  the  house  stood 
a  physician's  carriage,  the  owner 
of  which  was  leaving  when  the 
merchant  entered. 
"Good-morning,  Doctor  Conium.  How  is  your  pa 
tient?" 

"Tarries;  and  that's  all.     Running  down  fast — can't 
survive  a  month." 

"Think  so,"  said  Bloker,  musingly. 
"I  am  certain — he's  in  the  final  dropsy.     Splendid 
day.    ,By-the-by,  how  did   you   like  Yitalizio   t'other 
night  at  the  Academy?     A  superb  contralto.     Prefer 
Coutrayerva!    Don't — do  not  agree  with  you.    Ta — ta." 
13 


146  THE   HORTONS;   OB 

The  half-darkened  chamber  into  which  Bloker  was 
ushered  was  scrupulously  neat,  and  betokened  the 
presence  of  the  searching  eye  and  ready  hand  of  affec 
tion.  In  an  easy  chair,  a  wasted  man  past  middle 
life,  with  the  puffed,  doughy  countenance  indicative  of 
a  diseased  heart,  was  carefully  pillowed. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you  looking  fresher  this  morning, 
Mr.  Ilowell.  All  you  want  is  a  few  weeks  of  country 
air  at  this  bracing  season,  new  milk,  and  farm-house 
quiet,"  said  Bloker. 

"You  surprise  me.  I'm  sure  I  couldn't  stand  it," 
replied  the  invalid,  slowly. 

"You  would  soon  feel  stronger,  sir.  Some  of  the 
doctors  now  recommend  the  sea-side  and  bathing  at 
this  season." 

"I  believe  I  shall  not  want  anything  long." 

"You  really  must  not  give  way  to  such  fancies;  they 
injure  you." 

.  The  wife,  forcing  a  cheerful  look  through  the  tears 
that  stood  in  her  eyes,  was  about  to  leave  the  room, 
when  the  sick  man  called  to  her: 

"Sophy,  give  me  the  medicine  before  you  go." 

Her  bosom  heaved  with  a  suppressed  sigh,  and  her 
hand  trembled  as  she  measured  the  drops.  Then,  when 
he  had  swallowed  the  dose,  she  took  the  spoon  and 
lingered  at  his  chair.  Looking  upon  him  fondly,  and 
with  her  fingers  gently  brushing  back  a  lock  of  hair 
upon  his  forehead,  she  said, 

"His  appetite  grows  better,  and  a  great  deal  depends 
on  that,  you  know,  sir.  He  eat  quite  a  meal  of  tapioca 
this  morning;"  and  having  arranged  his  pillows, 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  147 

she  went  to  endure  a  solitary  grief  at  her  household 
labors. 

After  a  pause,  during  which  the  sick  man's  troubled 
thoughts  writhed  in  his  face,  and  the  merchant  sat 
decorously  playing  with  his  watch- seals  and  gazing 
upon  a  pattern  in  the  carpet,  the  former  spoke: 

"I  have  sent  for  you,  Mr.  Bloker,  to  take  a  weight 
off  my  mind.  The  doctor  encourages  me,  but  I  know 
that  I  cannot  last  long.  Our  old  business  relations 
embolden  me  to  ask  a  favor  of  you.  In  ten  days  my 
time  in  this  house  will  expire.  I  know  you  expect  the 
premises,  and  having  warned  me,  if  you  insist,  I  cannot 
stay;  but  I  must  honestly  tell  you  that  we  have  made 
no  preparation  to  move.  Our  means  are  straightened, 
and  when  I  go,"  and  his  voice  faltered,  "my  poor  wife 
will  have  to  live  in  a  more  narrow  way."  Here  he 
quite  broke  down;  but  added  directly  in  a  hurried 
manner,  as  if  he  lacked  nerve  to  utter  the  fear  which 
oppressed  him,  "If  we  move  at  the  time  fixed,  we  must 
have  a  sale  of  the  furniture,  and,  though  I  hope  that 
God  would  sustain  me,  I  feel  it  is  more  than  Sophy 
could  bear." 

There  was  a  minute's  silence  in  the  chamber  before 
Bloker  composedly  replied. 

"Mr.  Howell,"  he  said,  "I  would  like  much  to  oblige 
you  for  old  acquaintance  sake.  We  have  had  large, 
and  I  trust  mutually  satisfactory  dealings  together, 
running  through  many  years.  To  be  sure,  I  hold  your 
due-bill  for  a  hundred  dollars,  but  I  shall  not  press  it 
against  your  household  goods.  There  is  a  small  fire 
proof  of  yours  at  my  place  which  will  cover  a  part 


148  THE   HORTONS;   OR 

of  the  amount,  and  the  remainder  I  forgive.  But  in 
this  business  I  cannot  yield  to  my  feelings.  I  have 
arranged  for  some  alterations  in  the  house,  and  the 
builders  will  be  ready  to  begin  in  a  fortnight.  I  am 
sorry  that  I  can't — that  it  is  impossible  to  accede  to 
your  request." 

"  God's  will  be  done  I"  exclaimed  the  invalid,  faintly, 
Tas  he  closed  his  eyes. 

There  was  a  flickering  of  compassion  in  Bloker's  face 
as  he  surveyed  his  old  associate,  but  he  quickly 
rallied. 

"  Mr.  Howell,  you  mustn't  be  despondent.  If  Coni- 
um  encourages,  you  may  rely  upon  it  he  has  grounds. 
If  you  want  my  carriage  when  you  move,  command  it. 
It  is  a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  'Change,  and  I  must  be 
there.  I  hope  this  fine  weather  will  improve  you — 
Good-bye." 

It  was  the  daily  meridian  of  the  mercantile  congress, 
and  the  hall  was  resonant  with  the  buzz  of  traffic. 

"There's  Bloker,"  remarked  one  admirer  of  moral 
goodness  to  another.  "  He  made  a  big  outside  thing, 
yesterday,  on  tallow — got  early  news,  somehow,  of  the 
fall  of  Sevastapol,  and  sold  in  time." 

"  He's  a  sharp  one,  is  Bloker,"  was  the  reply,  liquor- 
ishly  emphasized,  as  the  speaker  followed  with  eyes 
brim -full  of  esteem  the  advancing  and  sprucely  attired 
figure  of  that  acute  hero. 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME. 


149 


CHAPTER   XVIL 


Now  the  cock  with  lively  din 
Scatters  the  rear  of  darkness  thin, 
And  to  the  stack,  or  the  barn-door, 
Stoutly  struts  his  dames  before: 
Oft  Ifst'ning  how  the  hounds  and  horn 
Cheerly  rouse  the  slumb'ring  morn, 
From  the  side  of  some  hoar  hill, 
Through  the  high-wood  echoing  shrill. 

L' ALLEGRO. 


HE    sunrise   prospect  at   The   Cedars 
of    surrounding    stubble    fields    and 
woods   garbed   in   russet,   with   here 
and  there  the  dogwood's  red  and  the 
dark  green  of  the  hemlock,  was  felt 
to  be  very  cheerly  by  Judge  Bard- 
leigh  and  Bradley Horton,  as  awaiting 
breakfast  in  the  crisp,  appetizing  air,; 
they  paced  the  grounds  and  accepted 
happy  auguries  from  the  kitchen. 
"  See  you  the  frost,  Master  Bradley  ?     This  will  be  a 
glorious  day  to  trudge  for  rail.     You  must  get  into 
stouter  boots,  for  we  shall  find  few  dry  places  except 
gravelly  hill  sides." 

•'You    have    such   a    powder-and-shot    reputation, 
13* 


150  THE  HOBTONS;   OR 

judge,  that  I  am  confident  you  will  cover  my  short 
comings." 

"Aha!  don't  rely  too  much  upon  the  brag  of  old 
fellows.  'I've  seen  the  day,  sir — at  it  again,  by  the 
great  Orion!  No.  The  shooting  exploits  that  I  venti 
late  happened  in  my  youth,  away  toward 

'The  good  old  colony  times, 
When  George  the  Third  was  king — * 

though  my  teething  post-dated  Tarleton;"  and  the 
judge  threw  back  his  head  with  military  briskness — he 
was  a  brigadier-general  in  the  militia,  and  had  planned 
a  score  of  successful  musters — and  merrily  stroked  his 
full  beard,  in  which  the  hazel  still  predominated  over 
the  grey. 

"Hedging,  I  see;  but  I  reckon  it  will  be  well  to  take 
a  hamper,  and  a  boy  to  pack." 

The  judge's  eyes  twinkled. 

"  O,  for  that  matter,"  said  he,  "I  always  fire  to  take 
the  heads  off  the  birds ;  it  saves  portage." 

"Here  comes  Steve  Trencher.  He  steps  briskly, 
spite  of  his  rheumatism,"  said  Bradley. 

"With  that  dreadful  death-dealing  gun-barrel  of  his. 
The  old  fellow's  timeing  himself  to  the  stimulus  of 
prospective  bacon,"  said  the  judge. 

"Good- morning,  Uncle  Steve!" 

"Mornin'  gents,  both — the  top  of  the  mornin'  to 
you;  though  I  dessay  I  beat  you  there.  A  lot  of  them 
plaguey  circus  chaps  come  along  a  spell  afore  day,  with 
an  elephant  what  had  gin  out  somewhere,  and  beat  and 
banged  at  the  door,  and  axed  for  a  light.  I  expected 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME.  151 

to  see  the  fence  go  every  minute,  and  warned  'em 
off,  but  they  kept  on  till  the  old  woman  like  to  have 
went  in  'isterics.  I  put  the  end  of  'Proclermation' 
out  of  a  corner  of  the  window,  and  drew  a  bead,  and 
give  all  hands  due  notice,  and  they  cleared  out  sudden. 
That's  solemn." 

"No  wonder  the  old  lady  was  flustered,"  said  the 
judge. 

"I  had  a  leetle  apple-jack  in  Gineral  Washington,  as 
I  call  my  bottle  with  the  picter,  and  I  give  her  a  few 
draps  right  of£  It  helped  her  desperate.  It's  better 
than  camfire,  which  is  good  enough  for  bruises,  but 
don't  warm  the  innards  like  the  rael  sperits." 

"And  had  you  any  left  for  yourself,  Uncle  Steve?" 
asked  the  judge. 

"  Wai — a  taste  like ;  hardly  enough  to  keep  off  the 
ager." 

"We'll  see,  then,  if  there  isn't  a  little  in  the  side 
board.  And  there's  Kitty  calling  to  breakfast — come 
along  before  the  pot  cools." 

The  three  sat  down  to  some  substantial  fare,  after  the 
judge  had  provided  Uncle  Steve  with  the  promised 
prophylactic,  when,  had  he  not  turned  his  back,  he 
,  might  have  felt  flattered  by  the  dainty  appreciation 
which  it  manifestly  aroused  as  it  glided  over  the  avun 
cular  palate. 

"  I've  heern,  judge,  you  cure  your  bacon  with  sweet- 
enin',"  remarked  Uncle  Steve,  as  he  received  from  the 
host  a  fresh  supply. 

"Yes;  with  sugar  and  salt,  and  without  pickle." 

"  Its  proper  nice  meat.     'Pears  to  me  the  sile  makes 


152  THE   HORTONS;   OK 

the  pork,  when  yon  once  git  the  right  breed,  and  a 
kinder  than  The  Cedars  was  never  nuzzled." 

"Now,  if  we're  ready,  let  us  tramp,"  said  the  judge, 
when  they  had  collected  their  pieces,  pouches  and 
flasks,  including  "Proclermation,"  a  gun  which  might 
have  been  relied  upon  to  circumvent  any  known 
manual.  "  In  which  direction  shall  we  go  for  the  best 
sport,  Uncle  Steve?" 

"Wai,  I  seen  pooty  considerable  birds  about  Cox's 
Meadows,  two  days  ago." 

"I  don't  believe  there  has  been  as  much  gunning 
there  as  on  the  creek  marshes;  its  more  out  of  the 
way,"  said  the  judge. 

They  were  travelling  on  the  causeway,  a  raised  road 
straight  across  the  marsh,  which  spread  to  a  great  dis 
tance  on  each  side  of  it,  an  expanse  of  rank  reeds  and 
slumps  of  sedge  overflowed  periodically  by  the  tide, 
which  was  diffused  from  and  sluiced  to  the  serpentine 
channel  of  the  creek. 

"Do  you  see  that  sloop  in  the  spatter-docks?" 

"That's  the  Muskrat,  judge,"  said  Uncle  Steve.  "I 
seen  the  captain  to  town  at  Claxton's  store,  yesterday, 
a-buying  a  pair  of  gallowses,  and  he  told  me  she  was 
stuck  in  the  mash." 

"I've  got  a  couple  of  bushels  of  prime  oysters  planted 
in  her,  and  there  we'll  dine,  lads — I've  brought  along 
the  knives." 

Occasionally  they  shot  with  good  success  where  a 
rustle  of  stilted  legs  and  flutter  of  wings  in  the  sedge 
showed  the  presence  of  birds. 

"I  never  knowed  but  one  man  tame  a  rail,"   said 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  153 

Uncle  Steve,  "and  that  was  old  Kurnal  Cox — but  there 
was  something  unyearthly  about  him.  Folks  believed 
he'd  sold  himself  to  the  divil,  who  had  took  his  shadow 
to  make  sure,  beforehand.  Leastways,  nobody  ever 
seen  it." 

"  If  the  colonel  was  always  as  thin  as  when  I  knew 
him,  Satan  got  slim  security,"  remarked  the  judge. 

Uncle  Steve  was  scandalized  by  the  judge's  tone  of 
banter,  which  he  deemed  little  short  of  irreligious 
frivolity. 

"Wai,  he's  often  seen  to  walk  about  the  homestead. 
Kiah  Crocker  seen  him  one  windy  night,  the  winter  of 
the  great  sleighing,  a-ridin'  on  a  grey  horse  full  gallop 
over  the  old  sanddam.  It  was  about  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  Kiah  had  been  to  a  dance  at  the  Pole 
tavern,  and  seen  him  plain.  I've  often  heern  him  say 
he  was  ready  to  take  his  davy  on  it." 

"I  wonder  if  the  same  birds  come  year  after  year  to 
these  feeding  grounds,"  speculated  Bradley. 

"Bless  you,  no.  They  bury  themselves  in  the 
mashes  every  winter  and  turn  to  frogs,"  replied  Uncle 
Steve,  with  pitying  promptitude. 

At  a  reach  in  the  fen  of  the  corn-land  the  gunners 
came  to  a  mud-plastered  hovel  fenced  with  a  medley 
of  pickets  and  brush.  Strings  of  scarlet  pepper  and 
bunches  of  herbs  dangled  outside.  Beside  the  hut  was 
a  patch  of  hoed  ground  which  contained  straggling 
simples  and  vegetables — comfrey  and  tansy,  remainder 
beets  .  and  broken  files  of  cabbages.  A  cow,  with  a 
baggy  application  on  one  leg,  looked  from  a  stalk- 
thatched  shed,  and  shook  lorn  music  from  a  neck-bell 


154  THE   HORTONS;    OB 

when  she  nosed  from  her  brisket  the  flies.  An  aged 
negro,  white-headed  and  very  bent  in  figure,  sat  sun 
ning  himself  before  the  door.  There  was  such  an 
accordant  air  of  primitive  make-shift,  and  yet  coarse 
sufficiency  by  hook  and  by  crook,  in  the  parts  of  the 
picture,  that  the  tout  ensemble  could  not  be  easily  for 
gotten. 

"Mornin',  Grandaddy  Baltic!"  Uncle  Steve,  who 
was  foremost,  accosted. 

"Sarvent,  gentlemen,"  replied  the  old  man,  saluting 
the  party  with  one  hand  to  his  grizzled  forelock,  and 
with  the  aid  of  a  stick  tottering  to  his  feet. 

There  was  a  smouldering  fire  of  green  chips,  the 
smoke  of  which  the  breeze  blew  straight  toward  the 
cabin  door. 

"Do  you  have  to  keep  a  smudge  all  day,  my  friend?" 
asked  Bradley,  as  he  tried  with  tearful  eyes  to  decipher 
some  cabalistic  characters  scratched  about  a  horse- shoe 
which  was  nailed  to  the  lintel. 

"Yes,  young  marster.  Skeeter  drefiel  thick  here; 
wus  place  on  the  mash  for  him." 

A  not  untidy  woman  bustled  at  her  household  occu 
pations  within  the  cabin,  and  a  callow  brood  of  brats 
grinned  from  the  narrow  window  and  peeped  through 
crevices,  while  one  adventurous  wight  of  six  years  old, 
clad  in  a  loose,  lone  garment  of  coarse  cotton,  was 
seized  upon  appearance  by  a  dexterous  movement  of 
the  patriarch  and  summarily  spanked.  Their  sleek 
condition  seemed  to  bid  defiance  alike  to  insects  and 
intermittent. 

"Your  grandchildren?"  asked  the  judge. 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT   HOME.  155 

"  Yes,  sar.  Ise  got  a  lot  of  'em,  and  bressed  is  dat 
man  whoms  quiver's  full.  You  Jim!  clar  right  off,  or 
I'll  guv  it  you.  They  isn't  used  to  quality,  sar." 

"I  suppose  they  all  know  how  to  eat  'possum  and 
pone,  old  man?" 

"Yah,  yah,  sar;  possum  and  ground-hog  don't  stand 
no  chance  with  dem  critters." 

"  Grandfather,  what  use  do  you  make  of  these  herbs  ?" 
asked  Bradley. 

"Dem  yarbs  useful  in  many  tings — snake  bites, 
rheumatiz,  tender  hoof,  biles,  cancer,  yaller  janders, 
bloody  flux,  fits,  worms,  colic,  breakins  out,  poll  evil, 
straightenin'  bones — mose  all  kind  sickness." 

"  Houndstongue,  sut,  and  a  leetle  of  the  fat  of  a  blind 
puppy,  make  a  master  eyntment  for  runnin'  sores," 
remarked  Uncle  Steve. 

"  Yes,  sar.  That  salve  don't  keep  its  strength  tho', 
less  its  mixed  in  de  full  of  de  moon.  To  fotch  dem 
shu-ah,  ole  man  Baltic  adds  another  ingrediem." 

The  patriarch's  curative  resources,  it  was  understood, 

were  not  exhausted  upon  legitimate  ailments.     He  was 

renowned   for   knowledge  in  the  occult  sciences,  and 

j  practised  a  good  deal  of  quiet  diablerie  for  the  benefit 

'of  a  confiding  connexion. 

"I'm  curious  to  know,  old  man,  why  you  wear  that 
bag  at  your  neck,"  said  the  judge. 

"Dems  charms,  sar." 

"Against  Apollyon— the  Evil  One?" 

"Gin  de  witches,  and  sperits  dat  trouble  de  air. 
Dey  do  heap  of  harm,  marster,  if  dey're  let  alone,  so 
people  come  to  Baltic  to  put  spells  on  'em.  Dey  dries 


156  THE  HORTONS;   OR 

up  the  cows  milk,  and  stunts  de  corn,  and  breeds 
snakes  in  the  stumuk.  Baltic's  charm  makes  um  show 
umself  in  de  shape  of  an  owl;  den,  when  him  shot,  de 
plague's  gone.  Sometimes  good  while  afore  him  show; 
den  Baltic  has  to  make  the  charm  strong  agin." 

"  Could  you  let  us  see  them  ?" 

"Don't  do  to  'spose  'em  in  de  daytime — bring  mis 
chief  on  eberybody." 

"  Aroynt !  thou  arch-magician !"  exclaimed  the  judge. 
"This  is  dangerous,  and  we  were  best  going.  Have 
you  a  dime,  Bradley? — Here,  my  girl;  'tis  for  the 
spring-water  you  toted." 

As  they  trudged  away  the  hours,  the  reports  of  their 
fowling-pieces  startled  the  otherwise  silent  walks,  upon 
which  the  sun  shone  mitigated  at  times  through  a  lucid 
veil  of  clouds,  or  pouted  sullen  behind  a  denser  cumu 
lus,  and  then  burst  joyously  in  beaming  splendor.  It 
was  high  and  hungry  noon  when  they  reached  the 
Muskrat  and  got  at  the  mollusks.  The  softer  hands  of 
the  judge  and  Bradley  compelled  them  to  circumspec 
tion,  but  Uncle  Steve's  knife  was  swift  and  sure.  "  I 
never  lets  'em  stump  me,  nohow,"  he  observed,  in  the 
pendulum-like  pauses  of  deglutition;  "I  kin  take  'em 
out  without  scratching  their  beards." 

And  thus,  right  pleasantly,  the  merry  day  wore  on  to 

" join  the  past  Eternity." 

The  lightning-scathed  poplars  at  The  Cedars  seemed 
to  gesticulate  of  home,  as  they  basked  in  the  waning 
afternoon.  The  chimneys  crowned  with  smoke  intensi 
fied  the  welcome;  warmer,  Master  Shenstone,  than  that 
of  the  best  inn  which  ever  showed  a  bush  or  bred  a 
Boniface. 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT   HOME. 


157 


CHAPTBE   XVIII. 

Thus  do  they  talk,  till  in  the  sky 
The  pale-eyed  moon  is  mounted  high. 

BOUT  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  The 
Cedars  mansion  was  situated  the 
farm-house  of  the  estate.  Sometimes, 
enamored  of  rural  sights  and  sounds, 
Bradley  Horton  and  Lydia  Bardleigh 
— they  were  much  together — took  it 
in  their  evening  walk.  Ere  yet  the 
tints  of  sunset  had  given  place  to 
slate-colored  twilight,  with  a  tossing 
of  horns  and  crowded  trampling  of 
hoofs,  the  herd  was  seen  upon  the  dusty  road.  Follow 
ing  the  cattle,  a  flock  of  sheep,  less  frisky  than  in  the 
morning  pastureward,  was  driven  to  the  pen.  Loud 
was  the  importunate  sty.  The  fowls  on  the  branches 
cackled  like  ancient  human  gossips  serenely  censorious 
about  a  neighborhood  scandal;  while  the  geese,  crop- 
full  and  vigilant,  stood  sedately  in  the  way  on  one  leg, 
or  scattered  with  craned  necks  and  shrill  alarm  when 
disturbed  by  a  trespassing  horse,  at  whose  heels  the 
gander  spitefully  nipped.  The  milkmaids  shifted  from 
Briudlo  to  Suke,  emptying  the  swollen  bags  in  sharp, 
14 


158  THE   HOBTONS;    OB 

wiry  spirts,  that  bubbled  to  warm  froth  in  their  lacteaa 
lodgment.  Then,  the  teams  rattled  home  to  the  clank 
of  shaken  chain-gear,  and  shouldered  eagerly  to  the 
water-trough.  Anon,  came  the  wagoner's  whistle  from 
the  mow,  and  the  sound  of  currycombs  struck  on  man 
ger  and  stall-side.  Gradually  quiet  succeeded  in  the 
darkening  scene,  undisturbed  except  by  the  fluttering 
of  bat  and  beetle,  and  the  house-dog's  answer  to  the 
barking  of  the  distant  fox ;  while  the  moon  queened  it 
over  all  in  tranquil  beauty. 

"  Many  of  your  good  city  people,  Mr.  Horton,  think 
country  life  hum-drum,"  said  Lydia. 

"But  it  is  a  question  if  you  know  real  country  life 
where  there  is  elegant  hospitality  and  much  coming 
and  going.  The  madding,  or  gadding  crowd  follows 
you,  if  not  the  ignoble  strife." 

"Nobody,  I  suppose,  believes  in  the  superiority  of 
rural  life  when  it  is  cramped  to  the  illiberal  level  of 
boorishness;  but  the  well-doing,  intelligent  farmer's 
family  has  more  and  purer  sources  of  enjoyment  than 
are  open  to  people  of  the  same  social  condition  in 
cities,  where  so  many  suffer  the  torments  of  vanity  by 
being  ashamed  to  live  within  their  means,"  said  Lydia. 

"Ah!  the  rural  manners  are  gone.  Simplicity  keeps 
from  the  hay-field,  and  the  farmer  bolts  his  front  door 
at  bed-time — the  very  bees  forsake  the  clover  for  the 
syrups  of  the  village  apothecary." 

"  This  complaint  of  the  decline  of  rural  manners  is 
common  to  all  actively  civilized  countries  and  periods. 
It  was  Goldsmith's  in  the  'Deserted  Village,'  and  Cow- 
per's  in  the  '  Task,'  as  it  was  Wordsworth's  yesterday. 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME.  159 

The  rustics  whom  Sergeant  Kite  recruits  are  different 
from  those  Shakespeare  painted,  yet  they  are  full  as 
good  Englishmen,"  answered  Lydia. 

"  When  nature  shows  in  such  fascinating  shapes,  one 
supposes  that  the  sordid  tendencies  in  man  will  be 
abashed,  and  there  will  be  no  flunkying  to  the  hypocri 
sies  and  fopperies.  I  think  I  see  some  vanity,  how 
ever,  in  the  angular,  packing-box  houses  built  on  the 
barest  and  highest  spots,  and  with  no  inconvenient  trees 
to  obscure  their  stateliness,"  said  Bradley. 

"  The  country  has  features  for  every  humor,  whether 
rugged,  sprightly,  or  subdued.  You  will  find  the  con 
trast  of  this  autumn  evening  scene,  stirring  with  animal 
life,  racy  and  radiant,  in  the  unnatural  silence  and 
ghastly  beauty  which  prevail  about  these  homes  on  a 
winter's  morning  after  a  snow-storm." 

"But  there  is  no  action,"  insisted  Bradley,  "in  a 
country  life.  You  can  sum  it  in  an  alliteration — the 
piazza,  the  plantation,  and  the  post-office,  with  a  horse 
to  keep  up  a  connection.  Women  can  adapt  them 
selves  to  this,  unless  they  are  mere  butterflies  of  fashion, 
but  fancy  a  man  with  no  stimulus  between  breakfast 
and  dinner  but  an  essay  on  the  last  super-phosphate,  or 
a  turn  at  higgling  over  fat  oxen  with  a  butcher." 

"Dioclesian,  I  have  read,  forgot  the  purple  of  the 
world  in  the  solitude  of  Salona,  his  horticulture,  the 
free  air  of  the  Dalmatian  mountains,  and  the  prospect 
of  the  island-studded  Hadriatic.  Then,  Washington 
was  a  planter,  and  Garibaldi  loves  the  vines  and 
olives  of  his  native  Nice.  Sailors,  whose  lives  are  ad 
venturesome" — 


160  TTTE    TTORTONS;    OR 

"Change  to  farmers  naturally,  as  tadpoles  do  to 
frogs;  and  pardon  me  for  finishing  your  sentence  with 
an  awkward  similie,"  said  Bradley,  laughing.  » 

"I  do." 

"  Your  Garibaldis'  and  sailors  but  sleep  off  the  weari 
ness  of  action — then,  to  battles  and  blown  seas  again. 
The  sturdy  sons  of  England  turn  from  her  daisied  turf 
and  '  alleys  green,'  to  struggle  with  polar  ice  or  start 
tigers  in  Indian  jungles." 

"To  employ  a  thought  which  I  believe  is  another's 
— Low  gales  are  the  best  winds  heavenward,"  said 
Lydia. 

"Doubtless;  but  few  sails  are  spread  to  them. — 
Apropos  of  restlessness;  the  'sensation'  newspapers, 
with  their  licentious  extravagance  and  mazy  marvels 
of  vacuity,  unsettle  the  brains  of  a  great  many  weak 
brethren.  They  excite  an  unprofitable  curiosity  to 
know,  what  is  said,  rather  than  what  is  true.  They 
enable  a  multitude  of  silly  people  to  while  away  their 
time,  pleased  with  a  titillating  relish  of  .empty  words 
which  claim  no  effort  of  attention.  It  is  injustice  to  an 
average  human  intellect  to  read  these  American  news 
papers.  In  the  language  of  King  David,  '  they  go  astray 
as  soon  as  they  be  born,  speaking  lies.'  If,  morally, 
they  are  less  hurtful  than  the  prurient  and  pyrotechnic 
novels,  they  are  even  more  contemptible.  Fertile  in 
big  words  for  little  things,  they  swing  perpetually 
between  denunciation — which  is  ofte^a  the  resentment 
of  baffled  scheming,  a  covering  of  corruption,  or  a  bait 
for  forbearance-money — and  unwholesome,  unctuous 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME.  161 

puffery,    the  daily  stimulant  for  somebody's  vanity," 
said  Bradley. 

"You  remind  me  of  the  Arabian  proverb:  'They 
went  to  shoe  the  Pasha's  horse,  and  the  beetle  stretched 
forth  his  hind  leg,'  "  said  Lydia. 

"I  say,  the  old  women  are  predicting  from  the  goose 
bones  a  long,  cold  winter,  and  lots  of  sleighing — that's 
a  gay  look  out,  Lyddy !"'  cried  Charley  Bardleigh. 

They  were  flinging  All- hallows-eve  nuts  on  the 
embers. 

"  You're  planning  to  break  down  the  carriage  horses 
again,  I  suppose,"  replied  his  sister. 

"Never  hurt  them  a  jot.  A  clean  sweat  once  a  year 
does  'em  good,  if  it  does  damage  a  trace  or  two.  If 
snow  comes  I  tell  you  to  expect  fan.  Sandy  Coulter's 
tanning  coon  skins,  and  sprucing  up  his  jumper  for  a 
splurge — I  half  believe  he's  sweet  on  Kate  Stedman. 
I  mean  to  fetch  down  Rose  Stuvesant,  and  two  or 
three  of  the  McCalmot  girls." 

"In  such  an  array,  I  suppose  I  can't  be  counted," 
said  Bradley. 

"  To  be  sure  you  can.  Plenty  of  room,  and  a  buffalo 
for  you.  Mr.  Horton  may  come — mayn't  he,  Lyddy?" 

14* 


THE  HORTONS;   OB 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Yes,  my  dear  friend  !  my  little  fortune  is  pleasant  to  my  generous  heart, 
because  I  can  do  good  —  no  man  with  so  little  a  fortune  ever  did  so 
much  generosity  —  no  person,  no  man  person,  no  woman  person  ever 
denies  it.  But  we  are  all  Got's  children. 

COLERIDGE'S  DANE  ON  BOARD  OP  THE  HAMBURG  PACQXJET. 


a  December  afternoon  there  sat 
beside  Clement  Horton  in  his  car 
riage  an  elderly,  benevolent-looking 
man,  in  a  suit  of  threadbare  black,  so 
far  as  could  be  discerned  under  a  high- 
collared  surtout  of  snuff  color.  His 
glowing  face  and  general  freshness 
indicated  that  he  had  just  been  taken 
up  from  a  tramp,  with  the  wind, 
which  blew  free  and  frosty,  in  his  teeth.  He  slapped 
his  ungloved  hands  and  rubbed  his  ears  till  they 
blushed,  as  he  passed  salutations  with  the  merchant  in 
ajiearty  way. 

"I  despaired  of  finding  you,  Father  Tryon,"  said 
Mr.  Horton. 

"I  stopped  at  the  'Sorrel  Horse'  till  I  got  tired  of 
the  profane  bar-room  nonsense,  not  to  speak  of  the 
stinking  reek  of  liquor  and  tobacco,  when  I  took  to 
God's  fresh  air." 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT   HOME.  163 

"I  suspect  you're  a  famous  walker,  Father  Tryon?" 

"Yes,  my  dear  sir;  I  am  kept  afoot  from  November 
to  April  a  great  part  of  every  day,  and  what  is  bad, 
simply  in  yiew  of  the  creature,  the  heaviest  work 
comes  in  the  worst  weather.  I  look  like  an  anatomy, 
hut  my  legs  don't  lack  muscle.  Providence  is  good  to 
me  in  the  matter  of  strength,  though  I  am  past  sixty 
these  several  years,  and,  for  the  rest,  I  live  to  do  my 
Master's  will." 

"I  thought,  Father  Tryon,  that  we  could  at  leisure 
look  into  your  project,  and  perhaps  devise  means  to 
advance  it.  I  have  long  considered  a  House  of 
Industry  very  much  needed  at  Clinkers;  but  it  will 
require  a  great  deal  of  money,  and  we  must  go  about 
the  undertaking  in  a  business-like  way.  I  fear  that 
people  just  now  will  not  care  to  loosen  their  purse- 
strings  enough  for  our  purpose." 

"  If  we  can  only  get  the  soup  department  at  once,  it 
will  be  a  great  step,"  said  Father  Tryon,  with  ardor. 

Eobert  Tryon  began  life  for  himself  aboard  a  New 
Bedford  whaler.  His  nature  was  hardy,  his  spirit 
adventurous,  and  often  when  morning  broke  upon 
the  Berkshire  hills  he  awakened  from  delicious  dreams 
of  going  down  to  the  deep  in  ships.  For  the  lad  it  was 
a  battle  of  sea  against  land,  which  should  claim  him 
for  its  own,  and,  in  a  dull  age  of  peace,  it  was  an 
unequal  contest.  Had  there  been  a  wolf  to  kill  now 
and  then,  or  a  chance  for  a  wrestle  with  a  bear  the 
paternal  acres  might  have  retained  him  to  compete  in 
straight  furrows  and  tolerate  slow-going  oxen ;  but  the 
slayer  of  the  last  of  the  ferine  beasts  slept  in  the 


164  THE  HOETONS;    OR 

church-yard,  a  paralytic  old  man  when  he  died, 
mumbling  to  the  end  boasts  of  his  youthful  prowess, 
and  grateful  recollections  of  bounties  from  the  State. 
As  it  was,  the  rural  runagate  picked  the  hayseeds  from 
his  eyes,  and  hastened  to  enjoy  his  imagined  bliss, 

"  Far  as  the  breeze  can  bear,  the  billows  foam." 

It  is  needless  to  trace  here  in  detail  eventful  years 
in  the  life  of  the  young  sailor.  In  a  succession  of 
voyages,  he  had  deserted  at  Madagascar,  beach-combed 
in  South  America,  been  shipwrecked  on  the  island  of 
Saint  Paul,  and  caught  the  plague  at  Constantinople. 
At  length  the  religious  principle  which  was  native  to 
his  earnest  nature  promisingly  germinated,  and  in 
time  grew  to  a  fruitful  development  in  the  life  of  the 
devoted  city  missionary. 

Who  shall  describe  that  Clinkers  district,  which  was 
Robert  Tryon's  pastorate.  And  it  was  not  alone  a 
field  of  spiritual  labor,  but  it  was  also  one  of  secular,  in 
a  numerous  and  squalid,  vice-immeshed,  shiftless  and 
shifting  community,  living  by  disreputable  means  or 
alms  procured  mainly  through  the  missionary's  appeals, 
and  which,  though  scanty,  were  not  seldom  for  the 
recipients  all  their  bread,  warmth,  and  raiment.  Clin 
kers  was  a  confusion  of  foul  streets,  and  noisome 
alleys,  and  close  courts,  interspersed  with  open  lots 
heaped  with  coal-ashes  and  the  rubbish  of  demolished 
buildings,  where  swine  and  goats  roamed  for  garbage, 
and  the  unsightly  children  of  sottish  parents  infected 
each  other  with  a  precocious  corruption.  Crime  and 
lust  celebrated  in  Clinkers  subterranean  orgies,  and 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME.  165 

the  ear  of  night  was  vexed  with  the  frantic  gaiety  of 
despair  Here  burglars  planned  their  expeditions  in 
vile  cribs;  and  wretched  women,  fallen  to  the  lowest 
level  of  their  sex,  plied  their  calling,  or  perished  by  its 
fruits.  At  every  corner  there  was  a  liquor-store,  and 
dens  of  taverns,  brothels,  and  lodging-cellars,  in  pesti 
lent  communication,  sustained  the  horrible  life-in -death 
of  the  place.  The  fires  of  fever  never  went  out  here ; 
and  moping  imbecility  crouched  in  the  same  chamber 
which  rang  with  the  fierce  delirium  of  the  dying 
drunkard.  The  coroners  were  rich  in  reminiscences 
of  Clinkers;  concerning  burned  and  smothered  infants, 
and  bodies  found  in  outhouses  and  areas  ghastly  with 
wounds  from  knife  and  bludgeon.  Ghostlike,  in  the 
gusty  midnight,  along  the  rows  of  street  lamps  which 
flickered  to  the  river's  side,  solitary  sufferers  withdrew, 
and  never  more  returned. 

In  the  prevailing  misery  there  were  social  distinc 
tions  still.  A  grimy,  uncombed  citizen,  with  a  reputed 
interest  in  a  glue  factory  and  a  monopoly  of  dead  ani 
mals  upon  the  streets,  the  head  dog-catcher,  and  several 
successful  rag  and  bone  gatherers,  were,  next  to  the 
chief  whiskey  sellers  and  the  pawnbrokers,  a  caste  by 
themselves,  acknowledged  magnates  of  the  region. 
Though  faces  in  Clinkers  were  'diverse  in  color  and 
airs  of  nativity,  the  predominating  cast  of  countenance, 
while  it  presented  no  puzzle  for  the  physiognomist, 
appealed  to  the  feeling  heart  with  the  eloquence  of 
rebuke  and  entreaty. 

In  one  respect  the  importance  of  Clinkers  was  indis 
putable  ;  it  was  a  most  generous  contributor  to  the  bills 


166  THE   HORTONS;   OB 

of  mortality.  Within  its  confines  small-pox  festered 
malignant,  and,  strengthening  upon  the  marrow  of 
misery  which  it  found,  made  in  its  ravenousness 
unexpected  forays  into  rich  men's  dwellings.  Some 
times  an  epidemic  came,  and  fastening-  on  Clinkers, 
filled  the  town  with  terror.  Then  the  inhabitants,  not 
hurried  to  almshouse  hospitals  or  pauper  burial,  were 
turned  in  ragged  wretchedness  from  their  infected  lairs, 
shut  out  by  barricades,  and  forced  to  find  fresh  burrows 
unreduced  to  the  sanitary  rule  of  whitewash,  which, 
backed  by  policemen,  as  all  men  know  is  "the  sove- 
reignest  remedy"  on  earth  for  any  contagion  which  may 
spread  from  the  corrupted  centres  of  society,  whether 
to  undermine  its  morals,  destroy,  its  peace,  or  decimate 
its  numbers.  Here,  for  twenty  years,  except  when 
cholera  or  fever  brought  boards  of  health  to  share  pos 
session,  Father  Try  on,  wielding  a  moral  sceptre,  had 
dispensed  the  counsel  and  exercised  the  control  of  a 
single-minded  Christian  minister.  He  had  watched 
the  awful  passing  of  the  sullen  or  the  phrensied  sinner, 
and  prayed  by  the  pallet  of  the  penitent  till  the  await 
ing  angels  received  the  liberated  spirit  and  bore  it  to 
the  presence  of  its  God ;  and  he  had  walked  on  errands 
of  mercy  in  the  midnight  rumble  of  the  dead-cart,  with 
the  walking  pestilence. 

Grateful  as  is  the  smell  of  hay-fields  when  borne  by 
a  summer  evening  breeze  to  hot  city  streets,  is  the  pre 
sence  of  a  spiritual-minded,  large-hearted,  and  large- 
handed  man  among  the  selfishly  busy  of  the  world. 
Men  behold  the  result  of  Christian  benevolence,  but 
are  ignorant  of  the  careful  thought,  fervent  aspirations, 


AMEKICAN   LIFE  AT   HOME.  167 

sorrows,  and  prayers  that  prompt  and  precede  it;  for 
secrecy  is  the  divine  law  and  gauge  of  the  highest 
goodness.  Yet  it  is  wisely  ordained  that  benevolence 
shall  increase  when  use  has  blunted  the  sensibility  of 
compassion.  God's  blessing  of  bounty  comes  oftener 
through  two  or  three  gathered  together  than  pompous 
convocations.  Blowflies  are  apt  to  haunt  the  open 
shambles.  To  a  fit  observer,  the  bright  faces  of  the 
merchant  and  missionary  would  have  seemed  more 
cheerful  than  the  glow  of  light  which  surrounded  them 
in  the  bright,  red-curtained  room  at  Belair.  Humane 
tranquillity,  tempered  with  firmness,  was  indicated  in 
the  countenance  of  Clement  Horton,  as  some  will 
fondly  remember,  who  still  knew  it  to  be  capable  of 
the  expression  of  sterner  emotions.  The  appearance  of 
the  merchant  was  noticeable.  He  was  full  six  feet  in 
stature,  with  a  straight  frame,  rather  heavily  moulded, 
yet  instinct  with  nervous  action.  A  characteristic 
head,  with  a  tinge  of  silver  in  the  thin,  black  hair,  was 
carried  with  modest  and  intelligent  dignity.  A  high, 
well-arched  forehead,  Eoman  nose,  and  calm,  dark- 
grey  eyes,  completed  the  features  of  a  grave  face, 
which  a  clear  complexion  saved  from  sombreness. 

"We  will  call  on  Glump,  to  begin — he  is  nearest, 
and  shall  be  first  served,"  said  Clement  Horton  to 
Father  Tryon,  next  morning,  as  they  approached  the 
city. 

"A  heavy  dealer  in  hardware,  I  believe — shall  we 
set  fifty  dollars  opposite  his  name?"  Father  Tryon 
held  a  list,  which  he  scanned  with  interest. 


168  THE  HORTONS;    OR 

"  Hypothetically,"  was  the  laconic  reply  of  his  com 
panion,  while  a  smile  played  about  his  mouth. 

Aquila  Glump  reigned  supreme  in  a  lofty,  granite- 
fronted  establishment  in  Phoenix-block,  Commerce 
street,  and  thither  the  canvassers  repaired.  The  place 
was  a  hive  of  industry,  where  everybody  was  em 
ployed,  from  the  chief  to  the  junior  boy. 
"  Taking  our  account  of  stock — walk  in." 
"  As  you  have  no  time  to  waste  on  us,  we  will  go  at 
once  to  our  business,"  prefaced  Mr.  Horton,  as  he  made 
known  succinctly  and  persuasively  the  object  of  their 
visit,  while  Glump  listened  with  inflexible  attention. 
At  length,  by  the  missionary's  help,  the  application 
being  squarely  laid,  Mr.  Horton  ceased,  and  there  was 
a  provoking  pause.  Father  Tryon  looked  expectant; 
for  who,  thought  that  worthy  man  as  he  glanced 
through  the  counting-house  window  down  a  long 
storeway  perspective  of  clerks  and  porters  among 
riles  of  merchandise,  and  heard  subterranean  noises 
-.hat  would  have  befitted  Vulcan  in  a  pet  about  his" 
thunderbolts — who  with  such  resources  can  resist  my 
friend's  eloquent  appeal  and  my  own  illustrations.  I 
think,  now,  we  may  count  on  a  hundred  dollars. 
Then  uprose  Aquila  Glump,  and  spoke  as  follows : 
"If  I  could  collect  as  close  as  the  charities  do  this 
winter,  I'd  retire  next  spring  satisfied.  Your  object, 
gentlemen,  is  a  good  one,  no  doubt,  but  it  is  simply 
impossible  to  answer  the  everyday  cry  of,  'Give.' 
Rubies  and  sapphires  wouldn't  be  sufficient.  As  to 
monuments  and  memorials,  there's  no  end  to  them. 
Somebody's  constantly  getting  burnt  out.  Then, 


AMEBICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME.  169 

there's  our  Dispensary;  doing  a  heavy  business  and 
wanting  aid.  In  the  last  six  months  it  has  given 
to  the  suffering  poor  three  thousand  prescriptions, 
more  than  half  of  them  pills,  with  no  end  of  tooth- 
pulling — the  most  gratifying  exhibit  we  have  yet  made. 
Besides,  there  are  other  special  claims  which  I  can't 
disregard." 

"Must  we  go  with  an  empty-handed  dismissal,  then?" 
asked  Clement  Horton,  urbanely. 

"I  must  draw  the  line  somewhere,  sir.  But,  stop — 
may  be  I  can  help  along  your  soup.  Seven  or  eight 
years  ago  I  got  a  consignment  of  beans  in  payment  of  a 
country  bill,  and  there  are  three  or  four  bags  left.  To 
tell  the  truth,  I  had  some  trouble  to  get  them  off  my 
hands;  buyers  brought  them  back,  and  pretended  they 
wouldn't  boil.  Give  them  fire  and  water  enough,  I 
dare  say  they  will.  I'm  sure  there  is  no  mould  about 
them,  for  they  have  been  next  the  roof,  where  it's  dry 
as  a  bone.  Send  for  them  when  you  please — Benjamin ! 
charge  Benevolence  with  seven  and  a  half  bushels  of 
beans,  at  one  dollar  and  eighty  cents  a  bushel,  and 
fifteen  per  cent,  storage,  and  deliver  to  Mr.  Horton's 
order." 

Stimulated  by  this  initial  success,  the  canvassers 
departed  to  invoke  the  generosity  of  Scroggs.  They 
found  that  gentleman  giving  audience,  seriatim,  to  a 
collection  of  individuals  whose  appearance  attested 
their  independence  of  the  industrial  pursuits  of  this 
world.  They  were  limber  and  slouching,  bulky  and 
nmlberry-visaged  men,  wearing  their  hats  in  a  dissi- 
15 


170  THE   HORTONS;    OK 

pated  manner,  with  the  dull  sparkle  of  expiring  "cock 
tails"  in  their  eyes,  and  given  to  an  adjusted  expectora 
tion  of  tobacco-juice.  They  wore  waistcoats  of  bright 
colors,  glittering  chains,  and  bossy  seal-rings.  There 
was  a  promise  of  potatory  capacity  in  their  protuberant 
fronts,  which  was  often  realized  in  bar-room  arm-chairs. 
Tied  to  no  family  plate  and  napkin,  they  played  an 
Ishmaelitish  hand  at  boarding-houses,  and  ravaged  at 
tavern  lunches.  When  moneyless,  they  condescended 
to  juries,  but  their  legitimate  sphere  was  the  legislative 
lobby  and  the  partisan  convention.  They  were,  in 
short,  of  that  civic  brotherhood  which  regulates  the 
working  of  our  republican  machinery — the  ward  poli 
ticians.  Some  expected  to  be  delegates,  and  about 
these  others  revolved  in  the  relation  of  satellites. 
Bartimeus  Scroggs  was  "out"  for  Congress,  and  schem 
ing  for  his  party's  nomination. 

"Bilkser,  how  goes  the  war?"  asked  Scroggs,  briskly, 
of  a  black- whiskered  patriot. 

"  We've  got  four  precincts  in  our  ward  fixed.  Sure 
to  flax  'em  there — hooks  in  all  round.  But  we  are 
dead  broke — have  used  up  the  funds,  and  must  have 
fifty  dollars  to  go  on." 

"More  grease  for  the  machine,  eh!  Yes.  I  sent  ten 
laborers  from  your  neighborhood  yesterday  to  the 
superintendent  of  the  park.  Don't  you  think  a  few 
more  streets  in  the  seventh  might  be  repaired — small 
ones,  you  know%  where  there  isn't  too  much  elbow 
room,  and  the  poor  people  won't  kick  at  cobbles  about 
their  doorsteps,  and  a  long  job?  If  a  storm  would 
only  come  and  bust  a  culvert  1" 


AMERICAN"  .LIFE   AT   HOME.  171 

"I  believe,  with  what's  under  way,  the  paving  is 
about  cleaned  up,"  replied  Bilkser,  despondently. 
"  There  might  be  a  lot  of  kerbstones  moved  in  mistake, 
and  hauled  away  again." 

"I  bought  in  the  furniture  of  the  United  Athenians 
debating  club,  which  was  levied  upon  for  rent,  and 
donated  it  to  the  society.  That  ought  to  tell  in  the 
eleventh — it's  to  be  noticed  in  the  newspapers  as  quite 
in  the  manner  of  Pericles,"  remarked  Scroggs. 

"  The  Constitutional  Carpenters  is  on  a  strike  there. 
Two  or  three  X's  to  them,  on  the  sly,  so  the  bosses 
wouldn't  know,  might  be  a  big  thing,"  suggested 
Bilkser. 

"A  good  idea.  I've  promised  Chase  the  printing, 
but  keep  Smellie  hanging  on.  Chase  is  to  do  the 
public  opinion  articles — 'Many  Voters,'  and  'Fiat 
Justisher.' " 

As  Mr.  Horton  and  his  companion  were  about  to  get 
an  interview  with  Scroggs,  in  bustled  the  venerable 
Bliggs,  and  interposed. 

"Mrs.  Frizzleby's  mighty  bad;  them  passes  haint 
helped  her  a  bit.  She's  troubled  with  a  dreffle  retchin', 
and  drawin'  pains  in  the  small  of  her  back.  The 
mejeum  you  sent  seems  non-plushed,  and  thinks  you 
had  better  come  round." 

"I  can't — I'm  too  busy.  Did  he  make  the  upward 
passes,  or  the  downward?" 

"  The  motions  was  outard  and  towards  the  ceiling." 

"That's  where  it  is.  Deuce  take  the  blockhead! 
he'll  pump  all  the  magnetic  fluid  out  of  the  woman's 
system.  Wha-t  she  wants  is  witalizing.  The  passes 


172  THE   HORTONS;   OR 

-must  be  downward,  and  a  few  touches  from  a  galvanic 
battery  wouldn't  do  any  harm — they  would  stop  the 
retching  by  easing  the  coats  of  her  stomach,"  said 
Scroggs. 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  him ;  and  I  hope  he  will  relieve  the 
old  lady,  for  she  has  been  sending  to  me  every  half 
hour  since  breakfast — first  cousin  of  Mrs.  Bliggs,  who 
was  a  Frizzleby.  If  she  don't  get  better,  I  reckon  I 
shall  have  to  shut  up  shop.  What's  spelter  to-day?" 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  said  Scroggs,  after  hearing  Father 
Tryon,  "though  there  may  be  no  money  in  these  things, 
I  consider  it  every  man's  duty  to  be  charitable. — Biles, 
how  are  you?  Disengaged  in  a  few  minutes;  sit  down. 
— Our  higher  life,  as  I  was  about  to  say,  demands  the 
practice  of  charity.  But  no  man's  means  is  equal  to 
every  call;  even  Good  Samaritans  must  have  their 
speers  in  this  world. — An  abatement  on  them  potatoes? 
We  can't  make  it,  Comly.  If  Green  saw  the  rot  in 
them,  what  did  he  buy  'em  for  ? — I  confine  my  charities 
to  my  own  district,  and  if  you  were  at  work  in  it,  I 
wouldn't  hold  back.  As  it  is,  I  don't  mind — are  you 
going  to  publish  the  subscriptions?  Well,  ten  dollars. 
Perhaps  Mr.  Biles  will  give  something." 

"Never  was  so  hard  up  for  money  in  my  life — can't 
collect  anything,"  observed  that  gentleman,  with  de 
cision. 

"  O,  they  will  take  fixtures — they  are  canvassing  foi 
a  soup-house.  It  is  just  in  your  line,"  explained 
Scroggs. 

"If  it's  a  deserving  undertaking,  I'll — um — say — a 
ladle  and  a  meat-fork.  I  think  they  will  be  appro- 


AMEEICAN^  LIFE   AT  HOME.  173 

priate;  and  I'll  send  them  down — when  you  get  a 
going." 

"  I  asked  if  you1  meant  to  publish  the  subscriptions, 
Mr.  Horton,  for  they  put  everything  in  the  newspapers 
nowadays.  They  have  got  my  biography  there — I 
don't  know  that  you  have  seen  it.  No?  I'll  give  you 
a  couple  of  Bugles,  then;  they  may  amuse  you.  A 
good  journal,  by  the  by. — Did  you  think  I  made  out 
a  case  in  my  letter  to  the  Popgun  on  the  extension  of 
the  public  piers?" 

"  It  was  a  master-piece  of  enlightened  reasoning ;  I 
have  heard  it  everywhere  commended,"  said  Expecta 
tion  Biles. 


15* 


174  THE  HORTONS;   OR 


CHAPTER    XX. 

We  discussed  the  question  whether  drinking  improved  conversation 
and  benevolence.  Sir  Joshua  maintained  it  did.  JOHNSON. — "No,  sir: 
before  dinner  men  meet  with  great  inequality  of  understanding ;  and 
those  who  are  conscious  of  their  inferiority,  have  the  modesty  not  to 
talk.  When  they  have  drunk  wine,  every  man  feels  himself  happy, 
and  loses  that  modesty,  and  grows  impudent  and  vociferous :  but  he  is 
not  improved;  he  is  only  not  sensible  of  his  defects." 

*  *  *  -x-  •? 

BOSWELL. — "I  think,  sir,  you  once  said  to  me,  that  not  to  drink  wine 
was  a  great  deduction  from  life."  JOHNSON. — "  It  is  a  diminution  of 
pleasure,  to  be  sure;  but  I  do  not  say  a  diminution  of  happiness.  There 
is  more  happiness  in  being  rational." 


AROLINE    MELLEN    to    Adelaide 
Crosby. 

"DEAR  ADDY:  We  are  shut  in  at 
Belair — Emily  Horton  and  myself — 
to  grumble  at  the  dullest  and  slop 
piest  Christmas,  I  verily  believe,  in 
the  present  century;  and  I  think  the 
evergreens  may  be  doing  penance  for 
all  the  jollity  of  the  past,  they  look  so 
melancholy.  A  Spanish  princess  of 
one  of  the  old  dramatists  was  persuaded  that  Apollo,  in 
love  or  envy,  would  scorch  off  her  fine  hair,  and  so 
kept  always  in  the  shade — how  I  long  for  the  sunshine 
without  the  vanity  of  the  story.  It  looks  like  snowing, 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT   HOME.  175 

just  now,  which  prospect  might  set  our  blood  "bounding 
again,  did  we  not  know  it  will  avail  nothing  in  the 
mud.  You  must  grant  that  nobody  goes  seriously 
about  anything  at  this  season,  and  as  one  day  sufficed 
for  the  amusement  to  be  got  from  the  illustrated  gift 
books  and  the  stereoscope,  with  attrappes  and  bon-bons 
for  the  dawdling  intervals,  we  are  fallen  on  a  poverty 
of  resources.  To  the  idle  comes  temptation,  and  I  have 
yielded  to  it,  as  you  will  discover  to  your  cost  when 
you  receive  this  infliction  of  my  tediousness. 

And  why  should  you  escape?  Do  you  remember 
the  unfailing  correspondence  we  projected  at  school, 
when  we  should  enter  upon,  the  promising  land  of  the 
future,  which  would  surely  flower  with  new  dances, 
new  dresses,  and  exquisite  designs  of  pleasure,  and  be 
peopled  with  troubadours  and  other  gallant  gentlemen? 
Some  of  us,  alas!  reached  the  mirage  to  find  it  a  desert, 
with  barren  and  bitter  growths,  and  perished  untimely 

in  the  desolation.  Poor  Virginia  D !  Let  that 

pass.  There  is  so  little  gossip,  that  I  must  emphasise 
it.  'Tis  my  talent — so  I  give  thanks  and  make  no 
boast. 

Do  they  toast  the  ladies  before  the  clergy?  I  forget; 
but  I  will  give  the  cloth  precedence.  Our  Mr.  Willey, 
(I  belong  to  Belair  you  know,)  of  All  Saints,  has  got  an 
interesting  substitute  to  help  him  through  his  bronchitis, 
which  is  not  malignant  enough  to  require  Europe.  I 
think  he  is  a  consumptive  cleric,  for  I  noticed  a  hectic 
glow  in  his  cheek  last  Sunday  afternoon  when  Mary 
Sartain  spoke  to' him,  and  he  looked,  listening,  into  her 
eyes.  For  the  rest,  he  has  light,  restrained  whiskers — 


176  THE  HORTONS;   OR 

auburn,  if  you  please,  dresses  in  customary  black, 
neatly  kept,  and  wears  creased  lavender-colored  gloves. 
There  is  also  a  clergyman  here  who  calls  himself  the 
Revivalist  of  America.  I  can't  help  telling  you,  though 
its  shockingly  profane,  the  odd  answer  they  say  he  got 
from  Ruffbolt,  the  blacksmith.  It  was  about  a  sub 
scription  the  Revivalist  was  soliciting.  'How  is  it  to 
be  applied?'  asked  Ruffbolt:  '  To  keep  your  neighbors 
from  being  damned,'  replied  the  Revivalist:  'Then  I 
can't  conscientiously  give,'  said  Ruffbolt. 

Maggie  Smith,  who  was  one  of  the  Langham  Place 
juniors  in  our  time — you  will  perhaps  remember  her 
prejudice  against  pocket-handkerchiefs — is  this  winter 
the  admiration  of  the  town.  Past  seventeen,  would  you 
think  her?  She  has  an  untiring  chevalier  in  Theodore 

G ,  fresh  from  the  shadow  of  the  'dome  of  Brunel- 

leschi,'  who  serves  out  his  Italian  memories  very  freely, 
with — 'When  I  was  in  Florence,'  or,  'I  observed  in 
the  Tuscan  capital/ — a  heavy  pendant,  I  think,  for  a 

reigning  belle.     Caroline  K is  'brisk  as  a  bee,'  and 

gathers  honey  from  all  sorts  of  flowers.  Do  the 
surplus  sweets  such  people  hive  interfuse  with  exist 
ence  and  last  through  the  winter  of  old  age?  They 

live  to  be  old,  you  know ;  and  Carrie  K promises 

to,  if  her  peach-like  cheeks  and  ample  bust  mean 
anything  but  present  temptation.  I  will  venture  a 
certain  disconsolate  gentleman,  a  city  merchant,  thinks 
there  is  a  scornful  lady  at  Belair.  Not  your  humble 
servant.  My  conquests  •  are  easily  told :  Dr.  Pledget, 
and  Mr.  Seroon,  a  dark  gentleman  from  Bengal.  I 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  177 

pity  the  poor  fellow,  and  have  essayed  in  his  behalf  a 
little  good-natured  remonstrance ;  but, 

'This  cannot  take  her: 
If  of  herself  she  will  not  love, 
Nothing  can  make  her.'  s~\ 

\^s{  i-if'S/y1' ^ 

Bradley  Horton,  humming  'Malbrook/  comes  into 
the  library  and  says  a  visitor  we  have  expected,  a  Mr. 
George  Dolman,  is  arrived;  so  I  must  close  this  med 
ley.  But  not  till  I  take  revenge  for  the  interruption. 
Well,  then,  Master  Bradley  basks  periodically  in  the 
smiles  of  a  Miss  Lydia  Bardleigh.  He  goes,  again  and 
again,  'to  shoot  with  the  judge,'  (her  father,)  or,  'for  a 
sail  with  some  friends  on  the  bay.'  Do  you  want  to 
see  some  of  his  rapture,  my  dear?  A  German  tailor 
found  it  in  a  vest  of  Bradley 's  which  he  took  to  repair, 
and  brought  it  immediately  to  me  with  a  puzzled 
countenance. 

MY  BEAUTIFUL  WHITE  EOSE. 

Bride  of  my  heart!  Betrothed!  look, 

And  love  me  with  thy  loving  eyesj 
Oh !  lay  aside  that  idle  hook, 

And  lift  the  drooping  lids'  disguise. 
I  know  they  overflow  with  light, 

Twin  stars  above  a  tropic  sea, 
Which  heaving  in  my  raptured  sight, 

Makes  music  of  the  drapery ! 

How  wide,  how  warm,  how  sweetly  wild, 

The  love  that  billows  in  thy  breast ! 
And  yet  like  dimples  on  a  child, 

A  sleeping  child,  it  seems  to  rest. 
So  gently  sways  thy  bosom's  mask 

To  strangled  sighs  when  half  confest, 
Thy  quivering  mouth  I  do  not  ask 

To  tell  me  I  am  thine,  and  blest! 


178  THE   HORTONS;      OR 

But  turn  to  me  thy  loving  eyes, 

I'll  answer  with  an  eagle's  gaze, 
Till  their  mild  radiance  meekly  dies, 

Outmeasured  by  a  kindred  blaze. 
The  charms  Cythera's  goddess  brought, 

To  ravish  from  the  foaming  sea, 
Ne'er  on  the  ancient  manhood. wrought 

The  spells  thy  eyes  can  work  on  me ! 

Isn't  it  dreadful? — 'I  pray  you,  mar  no  more  trees 
with  writing  love-songs  in  their  barks.' 

The  favorite  bonnet  this  winter  is  velvet,  trimmed 
with  satin  ribbon  and  rolled  feathers,  turned  well  off 
from  the  side-face  and  worn  back.  Eibbon  and  narrow 
blonde  inside;  with  hair  in  full  bandeau.  There  are 
some  new  styles  of  fluted  mantle,  very  charming.  I 
showed  you  once  an  antique  garment  of  silk  and 
worsted  stuff,  a  fine  vermillion  in  color,  which  was 
worn  by  my  great-grandmother  on  grand  occasions, 
such  as  riding  to  the  city  on  a  pillion  and  being  chased 
by  panthers ;  and  which  I  think  of  converting  to  a 
Balmoral.  I  must  break  short  off.  Adieu. 

C.  M. 

P.  S.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  I  have  not  succeeded 
in  sampling  the  silk,  but  I  will  try  again.  Also,  that 
there  is  an  angel  in  the  house  at  Shellbank." 

Besides  the  merchant,  Bradley,  and  the  two  ladies, 
Messrs.  Dolman  and  Bloker  partook  of  Belair  turkey 
and  cranberry,  which  was  followed  by  the  inevitable 
mince-pie,  and  a  delicate  tapioca  pudding,  made  by 
Emily,  which  compelled  their  approval. 

"You  see  I  have  resolved  to  keep  my  guests  sober," 
said  Mr.  Horton,  quietly. 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME.  179 

"  And  you  are  right.  ~If  a  man  can't  do  with^-at  his 
bottle,  let  him  find  a  tavern,"  returned  Dolman. 

"Only  think,  Mr.  Bloker,  of  the  bins  being  sealed 
up,  and  snapdragon  prohibited.  An  I  am  forced  to 
emigrate,  I  shall  go  to  Scheidam,"  said  Caroline. 

"  I  have  banished  the  decanters  from  a  sense  of  duty, 
without  any  desire  to  prescribe  morals  imperiously  for 
others.  Doubtless  a  conscience-restrained  man  may 
drink  wine  moderately  without  evil.  Still  I  do  not 
feel  justified  in  longer  promoting  by  my  compliance  an 
indulgence  which  is  too  commonly  abused  •  and  which, 
at  the  best,  to  a  rational  being  is  a  superfluity.  Every 
man's  example  is  worth  something  for  good  or  evil  to 
a  weaker  brother." 

"But  what  is  to  become  of  the  wits  of  dull  people  if 
you  take  away  their  wine ;  and  where  are  we  to  find 
that  dear,  delightful,  romantic  jollity — 

'  Dance  and  Provencal  song  and  sunburnt  mirth  ?'" 

asked  Caroline. 

"Then,  consider  the  advice  to  Timothy,"  added 
Dolman,  continuing  the  banter. 

"Some  men  think  champagning  customers  profitable 
in  business.  I  hardly  know  if  it  is,  in  the  end.  It 
sells  as  many  goods  as  it  pays  for,"  observed  Bloker. 

"John  Barleycorn  has  not  been  helped  by  the  scien 
tific  nonsense  of  Liebig  and  the  'alcohol  is  food' 
chemists.  And  he  is  not  to  be  disposed  of  by  'mass- 
meeting.'  Every  man,  under  God,  must  play  the 
David  for  himself,  and  sling  his  own  stone;  with  a 
hearty,  brotherly  rescue  from  the  whole  field  for  the 


180  THE   HOETONS;   OE 

poor  fellows  who  go  down  in  the  conflict,"  said  Dol 
man. 

""While  it  is  true/'  observed  the  merchant,  "that  no 
man  can  reform  another,  let  us  not  depreciate  the  value 
of  concerted  effort.  When  you  improve  the  poor 
man's  dwelling,  and  give  him  room,  and  abundance  of 
light,  air,  and  water;  cheap  and  reasonable  amuse 
ments;  gardens,  parks,  picture-galleries,  and  free 
music;  schools  for  his  children,  and  a  well  sustained 
industry  for  himself,  (the  province  of  statesmanship,) 
by  which  he  may  support  them;  and  above  all,  to 
sanctify  all,  the  gospel  of  Jesus,  the  poor  man's  gospel, 
calmly,  fervently,  and  affectionately  preached  by  a 
pure  and  cultivated  priesthood,  you  strike  heavy  blows 
at  intemperance." 

"  It  is  amazing  that  the  falsehood  which  asserts  the 
temperance  of  the  inhabitants  of  wine-producing  coun 
tries  continues  to  be  received.  In  Paris,  where  drunken 
men  are  kept  from  the  streets,  there  are  wine  shops  at 
which,  in  certain  hours  daily,  you  may  find  a  hundred 
topers  at  a  time  sleeping  off  the  fumes  of  intoxication; 
and  on  a  smaller  scale  it  is  so  throughout  France.  In 
Belgium  it  is  worse,"  said  Bradley. 

"The  only  force  of  the  cheap  wine  argument  as  a 
remedy  for  the  whiskey  abuse,  is  this:  It  will  take 
more  of  the  former  to  produce  drunkenness  than  of  the 
latter,  and  the  excess  may  not  be  taken.  I  must  beg 
pardon  for  making  of  no  account  the  poetry,  which  is 
blissful  with  festive  Falernian  and  sparkling  Catawba. 
It  is  the  difference  of  breaking  a  man's  neck  outright, 


AMERICAN  IJFE   AT   HOME.  181 

and  of  his  being  done  for  by  a  succession  of  minor  frac 
tures,"  remarked  Dolman. 

"One  might  suppose,  Mr.  Dolman,  that  you  were 
fresh  from  walking  the  hospitals,  but  for  your  hostility 
to  punch,"  said  Caroline. 

"To  us  the  individual  tiisery  inflicted  by  the 
immoderate  use  of  whiskey  and  wine  is  apparent; 
the  infrangible  mischief  which  is  grafted  into  the  race 
— the  aggregate  of  propagable  vice  and  woe — can  only 
be  estimated  by  angels,"  said  Mr.  Horton. 

"May  not  the  world  outgrow  tobacco,  sometime?" 
asked  Dolman. 

"It  seems  stretching  speculation  to  suppose  so.  As 
an  obstruction  to  spiritual  development,  it  may  be 
found  by  individuals  the  ofl'ending  eye  which  is  to  be 
plucked  out.  It  will  never  be  abandoned  simply 
because  it  is  injurious  to  mental  and  bodily  health, 
except  by  hesitating  dyspeptics,"  responded  Mr.  Hor 
ton. 

"Tobacco  is  a  cherished  impostor,  as  despotic  as  a 
Tartar  Lama,  and  which  looks  grave,  owns  castles  in 
Spain,  and  pretends  to  wisdom,"  said  Caroline. 

"  The  daily  practice  of  alternating  a  stimulant  and  a 
sedative,  is  odd  enough  to  be  told  by  a  traveller  of 
some  newly-discovered  tribe.  Yet,  with  brandy  and 
tobacco,  we  have  such  a  see-saw  in  civilized  life,"  said 
Emily  Horton. 

"How  can  you  presume,  Emily,  to  criticise  the 
reaches  of  the  masculine  understanding?  Mind  your 
crochet  work." 

"Ah!  Don  Cigarro  and  Mynheer  Meerschaum  are 
16 


182  THE  HOKTONS;    OB 

not  beloved  of  ladies.  This  it  is  to  be  rivalled,"  rallied 
Dolman. 

"To  be  sure — 'Ur-rur-venge!'  as  .they  say  in  tra 
gedy.  Can  we  help  pining  in  thought  for  the  beaux 
who  carry  our  bliss  to  the  smoking-rooms?"  said  Caro 
line. 

"  I  knew  a  man,"  said  Bradley,  "  of  cultivation  and 
veracity,  who  told  me  that  he  once  shut  himself  up  a 
winter  to  write  a  book,  and  by  the  immoderate  use  of 
tobacco  induced  the  De  Quincey  condition,  in  which  he 
saw  multitudes  of  faces  and  figures.  In  all  other 
respects  his  mind  was  clear.  'When  I  went  to  bed  at 
night  after  blowing  a  particularly  heavy  cloud,  it  was 
either  confusedly  oppressive  without  terror — that  I 
never  felt,  though  I  was  annoyed  by  wakefulness — or 
grand,'  he  said.  When  I  knew  him  he  had  quit  his 
pipe." 

At  tea  Bradley  and  George  Dolman  were  absent. 
The  former  had  been  invited  by  Andrew  to  a  sympo 
sium  at  the  gardener's  lodge,  and  had  carried  his  friend 
with  him.  Mr.  Horton  soon  retired  to  the  library  to 
look  over  accounts,  and  Caroline,  regarding  her  pres 
ence  as  superfluous,  or  actuated  by  a  caprice  of  sportive 
malice,  found  occasion  to  leave  Bloker  and  Emily  alone 
together. 

Jacob  Bloker's  manner  in  his  intercourse  with  Miss 
Horton,  though  intent,  was  that  of  a  wary  man,  endur 
ing  but  unencroached  upon  by  sentiment.  Plainly,  he 
was  not  the  person  to  take  to  charcoal  fumes.  There 
would  be  no  sadness,  and  little  fancy  in  his  love.  His 
passion,  if  such  it  might  be  called,  was  of  the  nature  of 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT  HOME.  183 

an  aposteme,  gradually  going  forward  and  slow  to 
point;  which  breaks  and  leaves  the  system  without 
damage.  Yet  Emily  Horton  was  the  object  of  his  am 
bition.  Whoever  stood  in  the  way  of  his  success  was 
an  enemy,  to  be*  visited,  if  possible,  with  his  vengeance. 
Scruples  were  aliens  to  his  bosom.  The  rebuke 
administered  to  him  by  Jane  Warner  had  offended  him 
less  than  the  exposure  of  his  narrowness.  That,  he 
felt,  had  impeded  him  in  the  prosecution  of  his  suit, 
despite  his  own  plausible  explanation ;  and  his  rancor, 
though  cunningly  cloaked,  rose  to  a  measure  corres 
ponding  with  the  force  of  his  desire. 

"I  have  taken  the  liberty,  Miss  Horton,  to  bring  you 
'Antonina,'  which  you  extolled  at  the  Forleys;"  and 
Bloker  in  drawing  the  book  from  his  pocket  brought 
with  it  a  daguereotype.  He  opened  the  case  with  an 
expression  of  surprise,  and  then  handed  it  gaily  to  his 
companion. 

"Since  it  is  so  unexpectedly  introduced,  I  must  let 
you  see  it,  and  tell  you  its  history.  The  lady  is  too 
pretty  to  be  given  the  go-by.  I  found  it  on  the  floor 
of  my  room,  just  after  one  of  my  clerks,  Garth,  had 
left  me.  I  put  it  in  my  pocket,  meaning  to  give  it  him, 
and  forgot." 

Emily  instantly  recognized  the  picture  of  Jane 
Warner. 

"You  know  who  it  is?"  she  asked. 

"I  think'  I  do.  It  struck  me  that  it  might  be  a 
reminiscence  of  Leasowes;  which  place,  I  believe,  I 
have  incidentally  referred  to  before.  A  mere  conjec 
ture,  however — I  know  nothing." 


184  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

"Shall  I  consider  it  a  waif,  and  return  it  to  the 
lady?" 

"You  do  not  perceive  that  would  be  likely  to  com 
promise  me.  No  doubt,  Garth  knows  where  he 
dropped  it;  such  things  are  under  the  eyes  of  the 
happy  possessors  a  score  of  times  a  day.  I  am  as 
much  the  subject  of  misconstruction  in  that  quarter 
already  as  I  care  to  be.  Besides,  I  understand  that 
Miss  "Warner  is  at  her  school." 

Emily  resigned  the  picture  to  Bloker,  who  received 
her  steady  gaze  with  composure. 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT  HOME. 


185 


CHAPTEE    XXI. 

Willie  brewed  a  peck  of  malt, 
And  Rob  and  Allan  came  to  see. 


HE  temperance  convictions  of  the 
worthy  master  of  Belair  were  not 
shared  by  old  Andrew  and  his  guests 
at  the  lodge.  Three  jovial  Caledo 
nians — a  Murray,  a  Brown,  and  a 
Carstairs — had  come  from  town  to 
.  pledge  the  season  and  each  other,  and 
the  rest  of  mankind  living  and  dead 
north  of  Berwick-upon-Tweed,  in  the 
potent  brew  of  "a  brither  Scot.'' 
The  two  great  levellers  that  make  all  Scotchmen  equal 
are  whiskey-punch  and  death;  and,  as  might  be 
suspected,  the  punch  has  precedence.  Its  empire,  like 
that  of  history,  embraces  both  the  finished  and  the 
faulty. 

Brown,  who  insisted  on  being  called  Broon,  was  a 
character  deserving  of  a  separate  paragraph.  The 
broad,  brawny  proportions  of  the  man  indicated  a 
tough  and  lasting  vitality,  an  overmatch  for  any  ordi 
nary  number  of  tankards  steaming  bacchanal  incense  to 
the  small  hours  in  subterranean  places.  There  was  less 
alacrity  of  perception  indicated  in  his  massive  features, 


186  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

rugged  to  the  hither  boundary  of  corrugation — though 
here  Lavater  was  belied — than  abounding  good-nature. 
This,  perhaps,  mantled  at  his  seventh  potation,  when  he 
had  clean  got  past  the  hatred  of  Doctor  Johnson  which 
was  inspired  by  his  fourth.  It  was  then  that  the  old 
Jacobite  glories  rose  fresh  to  his  view.  A  joke  once 
got  was  kept  by  him  for  ever,  as  another  man  would 
keep  a  demonstration  in  mathematics.  His  talk,  sensi 
ble  and  ingenious,  brisk  enough  without  dazzling,  and 
penetrated  by  a  vein  of  grotesque  humor,  was  just  the 
staple  for  a  company  moderately  volatile  and  a  comfort 
able  evening;  for  he  rarely  ran  his  share  too  far  below 
the  farrows  of  other  people,  and  the  punch  did  the  rest. 
He  dealt  in  old  editions  and  tall  copies,  and  catered  for 
the  book-hunters.  In  a  narrow  shop,  five  minutes 
walk  from  the  law  courts,  he  accumulated  musty 
treasures,  perchance — alas!  the  parting — from  hard- 
pinched  scholars,  of  black-letter,  Elzevers,  and  broad 
margins,  rank  and  file  a  dingy  and  battered  array, 
which  he  would  review  as  he  walked  off  his  morning 
heaviness,  always  short  of  headache,  and  declaimed 
Greek  to  the  rickety  shelves,  unconscious  of  the  weight 
of  superincumbent  dignity.  He  had  been  known  to 
pay  a  whole  month's  board  at  once,  to  the  bewilderment 
of  his  landlady,  out  of  the  profit  of  a  Seneca;  and  to 
replenish  his  wardrobe,  usually  somewhat  seedy,  with 
the  proceeds  of  a  bundle  of  old  ballads.  But  these 
were  rare  occurrences,  infrequent  as  a  stray  Nashe,  or 
a  Petrarch  with  an  Elizabethan  autograph,  upon  his 
counter,  and  his  finances  as  a  rule  were  at  the  ebb. 
"Take  a  weed,"  said  Bradley,  proffering  his  cigar- 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  187 

case  to  Dolman,  "for  Andrew's  tobacco  is  outlandish, 
and  a  pipe  he  is  sure  to  offer  you." 

Bradley  and  Dolman  were  seated  by  their  host  in 
rush-bottomed  chairs  high  and  straight  in  the  backs 
and  running  unexpectedly  to  bulbs.  There  was  a  blaze 
of  crackling  hickory  which  flashed  a  Christmas  wel 
come  along  a  hospitable  extent  of  chimney  coast.  At 
one  corner  of  the  ingle  the  gardener's  dog  was  stretched, 
hunting  in  his  sleep;  and  at  the  other  a  kettle,  just 
taken  from  the  crane,  steamed  lazily.  Upon  a  bright 
cherry  table,  drawn  within  the  compass  of  the  fire,  were 
glasses,  lemons,  and  a  canister,  the  contents  of  which 
were  gradually  disappearing  in  smoke  and  satisfaction. 

"Pit  some  o'  this  into  ye — it's  gude  as  if  it  was 
illecit,"  said  Andrew,  producing  a  flat  stone  bottle. 

Bradley  complied,  and  Dolman  swallowed  a  thimblo- 
full. 

"Ye'll  alloo  me  to  recommend  it  for  presairvin'  the 
constitution,  tecklin'  the  fog  out  o'  the  throat,  and  pre 
venting  the  destruction  of  tissue,"  said  Carstairs. 

"It'll  mak  the  bluid  run  into  your  bones,"  added 
Murray. 

"  The  good  wishes  of  the  season !"  Bradley  offered, 
nodding  from  the  host  to  the  company. 

"  The  same  frae  oorsels,"  responded  Andrew  over  a 
companion  tumbler. 

"Gin  ye'd  pin  it  in  with  a  pipe,  it  would  do  ye  mair 
good  than  gowd.  Cigars  are  weel  enough  wi'  cauld 
drinks  and  licht,  like  wines,"  said  Carstairs,  who  had 
been  in  his  time  a  small  stock  farmer  in  Australia,  and 
had  smoked  his  well  browned  dudeen,  silver  set  at 


188  THE  HORTONS;   OR 

Sydney,  after  tea  and  damper  in  many  a  savage  spot  of 
bush. 

"I  wad  wish  nae  mair  o'  a  winter's  nicht,"  reflected 
Andrew  aloud,  while  he  pared  a  lemon  with  his  prun- 
ing-knife,  "than  a  flame  which  pits  a  smile  on  the  auld 
beams  overhead,  and  brings  to  a  mon's  heart  a  thoucht 
o'  luve  as  it  glints  frae  the  eyes  of  his  tyke ;  thot,  an'  a 
dwam  or  sae  to  uncrinkle  him,  an'  he  may  lean  his  bock 
in  a  beguilin'  cloud  o'  smoke  and  defy  the  winds  to 
blaw.  Buiks  some  folk  prefer,  but  it's  a  clever  chiel 
of  them  a'  that's  nae  a  wee  bit  daft.  They  e'en  took  to 
gawrdenin',"  with  a  profound  contempt  in  his  accent 
worthy  of  a  fellow  craftsman  of  Adam,  "wi'  their 
Cyclopedias,  and  sic  clavers!" 

"  Was  there  ever  such  a  brooding  old  bird  of  a  Zim 
merman.  Wouldn't  you  call  in  the  neebors?  Mur 
ray  !  give  us  a  sang  to  enliven  our  Ancient  of  Tulips  at 
the  concocting  of  the  punch,"  said  Brown. 

"After  you."  . 

"He  declines;  and  at  your  amorous  ditties  he  can 
out  warble  Anacreon  or  a  man-milliner.  Ah! 

'How  sweet  a  singer  is  in  Murray  lost.'  " 

"Nae  hauding  offj  Brown,  but  come  forrit,"  insisted 
Carstairs. 

"I've  an  incipient  quinsy — I  couldn't  turn  a  tune." 

'Gie  'Willie  Wastle,'  Jamie,"  requested  the  host. 

'  Ye'll  sair  repent  before  I'm  through,"  said  Carstairs, 
as  he  pitched  his  voice  to  sing  the  wabster's  spouse  of 
Linkumdodie.  They  all  joined  in  when  it  came  to  the 
chorus,  and — - 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  189 

"Sic  a  wife  as  Willie  had, 
I  wad  nae  gie  a  button  for  her!" 

was  accomplished  in  a  contemptuous  roar,  Carstairs,  as 
the  Corypheus,  snapping  his  fingers  as  he  disposed  of 
the  dame  in  an  effective  variety  of  styles.  Then 
Andrew  sang  something  so  very  Scotch  and  very  old, 
that  Brown  opened  his  ears  and  asked  him  if  he  had 
ever  seen  it  in  print.  Bradley  was  pressed  and  con- 
s^  :ited  on  the  express  condition  that  Dolman  should  be 
excused  as  totally  incompetent  to  the  task.  Finally. 
Murray,  insisting  that  Brown  should  succeed  him  with 
a  story,  and  making  a  stipulation  to  that  effect  with  the 
recalcitrant  bibliopole,  gave  a  rustic  strain  of  moorland 
humor. 

"Now,  Brown,  your  story!"  was  urged  around. 

AN  EXPERIENCE  OF  MR.  BROON. 

"I  had  lived  in  the  city  which  is  honored  by  my  pre 
sent  abode  but  few  months,  and  being  of  temperate  and 
secluded  habits  could  not  i,n  an  emergency — a  cas"e  of 
mistaken  identity  you  understand,  no  other  is  supposa- 
.ble — have  referred  a  police  magistrate  to  many  resident 
acquaintances,  when  Christmas  eve  found  me  alone, 
about  eleven  o'clock,  in  my  own  quiet  shanty  and 
riddled  horse-hair  covered  arm-chair,  cogitating  con 
cerning  myself  with  benevolent  composure.  It  was 
an  out  of  the  way  neighborhood  where  I  lived  which 
got  little  of  the  general  racket  and  jollity  when  it 
was  at  its  highest,  and  the  festively  exuberant  noises 
of  the  night  had  subsided  to  the  rumble  of  an  occa 
sional  cab,  the  shrillness  of  a  few  sixpenny  whistles, 


190  THE   HORTONS;    OB 

and  a  tipsy  chorus,  now  and  then,  which  died  away 
in  some  distant  cross  street.  In  this  state  of  serenity 
I  had  been  sitting  a  fall  hour  undisturbed,  since  the 
recovery  of  my  wheelbarrow  from  a  crew  of  drunken 
rogues  who  were  trundling  it  into  the  illuminated 
window  of  the  confectioner  at  the  corner — when  the 
outer  door,  the  shutter  of  which  was  not  yet  up,  was 
slowly  opened." 

Here  the  narrator  paused,  looked  solemn,  and 
seemed  to  lapse  into  thought.  From  this  abstraction 
he  recovered,  with  an  effort,  when  Murray  handed  him 
a  tumbler  of  punch.  He  continued. 

"The  door  was  opened,  and  a  little  man  muffled 
about  the  throat  in  a  travelling  shawl,  with  a  hat  worn 
at  a  rakish  angle  and  preposterously  tall  like  the  neck 
of  a  hock  bottle,  and  with  a  gait  which  I  thought 
totty — but  that  might  have  been  due  to  the  uncertain 
light — approached  and  saluted  me.  When  he  was 
seated  there  was  a  restless  silence  of  a  minute  or  two, 
during  which  I  had  time  to  try  at  an  inward  estimate 
of  my  unexpected  guest.  He  had  removed  his  hat, 
and  I  perceived  it  was  clubbed  behind  with  crape,  but 
so  negligently  that  it  might  have  been  put  on  by  an 
undertaker  in  a  maudlin  state  at  a  dissipated  funeral, 
after  a  rather  cheerful  view  of  the  coffin.  He  wore 
large  buckskin  gloves,  and  his  clothes  generally  had 
an  appearance  of  bagginess.  What  could  the  man 
be? 

There  was  a  flavor  of  horses  about  him,  but  he  lacked 
the  true  stable  personality,  which  will  show  itself, 
even  on  a  hearse-box.  I  had  seen  similar  people  about 


AMERICAN.  LIFE  AT  HOME.  191 

theatres,  who  posted  the  bills,  helped  the  carpenters, 
and  played  second  or  third  ruffian,  at  a  pinch,  in 
murder  scenes;  but  my  companion's  ways  were  not 
dramatic.  Then,  again,  he  resembled  some  curmud 
geons  I  had  known  in  the  usury  line.  Perhaps  he  was 
one  of  the  brotherhood  of  Shylock  mollified  by  the 
genial  influences  of  the  season  to  minister  of  his 
money  to  struggling  virtue.  Something  like  these 
reflections,  half  serious  and  half  humorous,  sped 
through  my  mind  while  I  regarded  my  visitor;  and 
yet  there  was  an  undercurrent  of  cogitation.  The 
clothes.  I  had  surely  seen  them  investing  another 
individual.  Yes,  that  cerulean  coat — instinctively  I 
knew  it  to  be  blue,  though  in  my  shop  light  I  could 
distinguish  at  the  distance  nothing  more  subdued  than 
brimstone — with  its  queer  skirt  and  buttons  of  brass, 
had  been  part  of  my  holiday  leisure  and  parcel  of  my 
Sunday  walks. 

At  length  the  little  man  addressed  me  in  a  tone 
dashed,  I  thought,  with  a  shake  of  grief. 

'  Peleg's  pegged  out  at  last.' 

'The  deuce,  you  say!'  I  replied;  though  I  had  not 
the  least  idea  who  Peleg  was.  'Where  has  he  gone?' 

'I  can't  tell — He's  dead,' responded  the  little  man. 

'Who's  Peleg — dead?'  I  demanded  with  some  as 
perity. 

'  Why,  Stokes ;  as  was  your  porter.' 

I  had  only  known  him  by  his  last  name.  Occasion 
ally  he  had  been  employed  by  me  to  wheel  home  my 
purchases  from  the  book  auctions — I  dealt  in  miscel 
laneous  trash  in  those  days.  I  got  to  know  him  well, 


192  THE   HORTONS;    OB 

for  he  lived  near  my  shop,  and  I  often  saw  him  about, 
chiefly  in  his  working-day  aspect.  I  had  heard  of  his 
sickness.  Report  said  it  was  fever,  and  a  bad  case, 
caught  from  the  ships. 

'He  was  a  good  industrious  critter,'  continued  the 
little  man,  'as  pinched  along  the  best  he  know'd  how, 
and  allus  managed  to  keep  his  head  above  water  till 
the  time  come  for  him  to  go  down.' 

'I  can  bear  you  out  there — He  was  a  steady,  honest, 
person,'  I  said. 

'He  was  my  friend.  His  loss  touches  me,  but  I 
conker  my  feelings.  I  think  of  the  claims  of  the 
living,  and  it  calms  me  to  once,'  observed  the  little 
man,  with  an  air  of  resignation. 

'He  left  no  family?'  I  said. 

'There's  where  it  is — neither  chick  nor  child,  and  no 
relations  whatsumever/  replied  the  littfe  man.  Then 
he  repeated  with  odd  deliberation  and  emphasis, 
'  When  I  think  of  the  claims  of  the  living,  it  calms  me 
to  once.' 

There  was  a  pause,  which  I  did  not  happen  to 
impearl  with  any  observation,  and  during  which  the 
little  man  rectified  the  crape  upon  his  hat.  My  queer 
visitor  was  first  to  break  the  silence. 

'There's  an  unkimmon  lot  of  curous  things,  as  you 
wouldn't  think  on,  in  the  human  system,  what  the  doc 
tors  has  to  learn  before  they  can  cure  their  feller 
critters.' 

This,  though  I  thought  it  rather  a  bizarre  remark, 
was  plain  enough  to  be  assented  to  without  demur. 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT   HOME.  193 

'  And  yet,  they  tell  me,  they're  allus  a  discoverin'  of 
something  new — about  diseases,  and  sich  like.' 

'  I  believe  so,'  I  said,  as  I  considered  if  here  was  not 
a  chance  to  sell  an  odd  volume  of  Good's  Study  of 
Medicine. 

'  Tears  to  me  we  can't  put  too  high  a  vally  on  sci 
ence.  Some  folks  don't  like  the  way  the  doctors  cut 
the  bodies  to  find  out  things,  but  my  motter  is,  science 
before  feelins.' 

I  considered  this  a  sensible  view,  and  said  as  much ; 
while  I  thought  of  Jeremy  Bentham,  and  smiled  at 
once  at  the  agreement  and  the  contrast  suggested  by 
my  companion.  There  was  another  pause.  Again  the 
little  man  led  the  conversation. 

'Peleg's  as  pretty  a  corpse  as  I  most  ever  seen — 
Science  orter  have  it.' 

'What  are  you  at,  man?'  I  exclaimed  fiercely. 

'Strivin'  for  society,'  he  replied,  unabashed.  'I'm  a 
kind  of  exeketer  of  Peleg's,  I  may  say — his  survivin' 
friend.  Peleg  said  to  me  as  he  was  a  going  off — 
Abner! — Hoopes  he  used  to  call  me  when  he  was  well 
and  hearty — Abner!  said  he,  you  have  been  a  friend 
in  need,  which,  as  the  rhyme  said  on  the  horn  handle 
of  a  knife  I  owned  when  I  was  a  boy,  is  a  friend  in 
deed  ;  I  want  you  to  take  my  Sunday  clothes  to  remem 
ber  me.  It  was  affecting,  and  I  took  them.  As  soon 
as  I  closed  my  friend's  eyes  I  put  them  or. — this 
blessed  night.  This  coat,  and  west,  and  trowsers  was 
his.' 

Here  was  a  revelation.  The  scoundrel,  just  from  a 
fatal  case  of  ship-fever,  and  habited  in  the  dead  man*s 
17 


194  THE  HORTONS;   OB 

infected  garments,  was  trying  to  inveigle  me  by  artful 
approaches  into  a  collusion  to  sell  the  body  to  the  sur 
geons!  In  my  wrath  I  clutched  a  quarto  Dutch  dic 
tionary  heavily  bound  and  clasped.  Had  I  thrown  it 
with  the  force  and  precision  of  which  I  was  capable, 
besides  making  costal  fractures  under  the  swallow- 
tailed  coat  and  a  case  for  the  hospital,  I  would  have  car 
ried  the  canting  little  villain  clean  off  his  chair  on  to  my 
truckle  bed — the  last  place  in  the  world  where  I  wanted 
him,  bundled  about  as  he  was  with  contagion.  So,  I 
turned  to  the  window  behind  me,  threw  up  the  sash 
for  air,  and  in  another  moment  rushed  into  the  street, 
determined  to  hand  the  science-promoting  Abner  into 
custody.  Watchmen  were  few  in  those  days,  and  being 
usually  aged  and  of  plethoric  habits,  when  not  crying 
the  hour,  or  in  chase  of  mocking  boys  around  the  mar 
ket  stalls,  they  were  to  be  found  asleep  in  their  boxes. 
I  made  at  speed  for  the  nearest  of  these,  and  as  I  passed 
the  neighboring  bowling-alley,  the  door  of  which  was 
ajar,  I  heard,  'Five  minutes  of  twelve — one  game  more 
— set  'em  up !'  I  found  the  civic  functionary  in  two 
overcoats,  hugging  a  sheet-iron  stove,  and  nodding 
over  the  precipice  of  drowsiness.  When  I  roused  him 
he  inquired,  'Where  was  the  fire?'  Finally,  I  got  him 
to  comprehend  my  purpose.  But  when  we  reached  the 
shop  Abner  had  gone — perhaps  to  weep  in  secret — nor 
have  I  seen  him  since.  For  several  years  after  I  took 
an  interest  in  the  necrological  record  of  persons  who 
passed  out  of  the  world  according  to  law,  but  my  re 
searches  were  inconclusive.  To  return — I  shut  the 
place  next  day,  tied  a  badge  of  mourning  to  the  door- 


AMEEICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  195 

knob,  and  wafered  above  it  for  the  information  of  the 
literary  world  a  written  announcement  of,  '  A  death  in 
the  family.'  Then  I  had  it  thoroughly  scoured,  and 
fumigated  through  the  back,  before  I  ventured  in  my 
bachelor  blankets  and  the  society  of  Plato  and  the 
rats." 

"  That  was  a  queer  start,"  remarked  the  New  Hol 
lander. 

"  Bather,"  said  Bradley,  as  he  tossed  away  the  stump 
of  his  second  cigar  and  waked  Dolman. 

"Verawzetee,  next  to  sobrietee,"  observed  Andrew, 
essaying  to  rise  in  a  style  of  supernatural  steadiness 
that  he  might  brew  another  jorum  of  punch,  "is  the 
wale  o'  a'  virtues." 

In  an  hour  after  Bradley  and  Dolman  had  departed, 
the  dog  was  the  most  rational  member  of  the  party,  for 
he  could  stand  upon  his  legs,  although  he  knew  no 
Greek,  and  was  less  of  a  sentimentalist  than  his  master, 
or  some  of  our  modern  novelists.  So  true  is  it,  as 
Charles  Reade  has  somewhere  said  with  his  wonted 
pithiness,  that  wherever  there  is  drinking,  there  is  de 
gradation. 


<r 
196 


THE   HOKTONS;    OB 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

When  icicles  hang  by  the  wall, 

And  Dick  the  shepherd  blows  his  nail, 
And  Tom  bears  logs  into  the  hall, 

And  milk  comes  frozen  home  in  pail, 

*  *  *  *  * 

When  all  aloud  the  wind  doth  blow, 

And  coughing  drowns  the  parson's  saw, 
And  birds  sit  brooding  in  the  snow, 

And  Marian's  nose  looks  red  and  raw — 

LOVE'S  LABOR'S  Los» 

Bam. — The  air  bites  shrewdly;  it  is  very  cold. 
Hor. — It  is  a  nipping,  and  an  eager  air. 

O  the  willing  gleaner  winter  is  not  the 
famine  of  the  year.  For  him,  Nature 
drops  her  mask  of  austerity,  and,  like 
the  reapers  of  Boaz,  lets  fall  some 
handfuls  of  purpose.  There  is  a  blue 
in  the  sky  of  a  winter  noon,  which, 
when  the  winds  are  still  and  the  elas 
tic  air  is  full  of  the  sun's  light  with 
out  his  fervor,  is  a  blessing  of  sere 
nity — while  at  night  the  stars  shower 
down  through  the  frigid  quiet.  These  are  beams  from 
red  Arcturus,  sovereign  of  unseen  worlds;  and  these, 
that  glitter  on  the  miser's  tombstone,  are  from  prodigal 
Capella. 

Clear  and  calm  was  the   February  day  on  which 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  197 

Bradley  Horton  rode,  muffled  and  alone,  toward  The 
Cedars.  A  dazzling  vestment  'of  snow  was  spread 
upon  the  fields,  and  the  forest  trees  shivered  in  lean 
shadows.  The  sound  of  the  chopper's  axe  was  soft 
ened  by  distance  to  a  drowsy  monotone.  The  seal  of 
the  season  was  half  lifted  from  the  farm-houses,  though 
its  stillness  was  around  them,  that  they  might  breathe 
the  balmy  air.  Where  the  warmer  South  streamed 
along  the  line  of  sheltering  stacks  stood  patient  cattle 
feeding  at  the  rack  of  rails,  or  half-leg  deep  in  ripples 
of  fresh  forked  straw.  In  the  long  reaches  between 
the  homes  of  men,  where  faint  and  far  away  was  heard 
the  house-dog's  bark,  the  only  life,  perhaps,  would  be  a 
rabbit  scudding  toward  the  skirt  of  a  woods,  a  brace  of 
crows  keeping  by  successive  flights  in  the  road  before, 
an  owl  blinking  through  bare  branches  at  the  snow,  or 
a  pinched  partridge  in  the  fence. 

Up  and  down  a  long,  bleak  hill — bleak  when  the 
north-west  blows,  but  basking  now — and  on  the  mill- 
pond,  to  the  left,  men  are  gathering  ice.  On  the  mar 
gin  of  an  opening,  where  the  water  shows  treacherously 
smooth,  some  cut  the  limpid  blocks.  Others  guide 
them  afloat  with  hook-tipped  poles  to  a  secure  landing, 
when  they  are  shoved  swiftly  over  the  frozen  surface 
of  the  pond  to  wagons  at  the  shore,  the  track  being* 
shifted  when  the  water  oozes  to  a  slop.  The  faces  of 
the  men  are  aglow,  and  they  fetch  their  breath  quick, 
as  they  run,  or  stand  in  the  intervals  of  labor  and  slap 
their  numb  hands  with  a  will  on  shoulder  and  side. 
The  very  horses  that  draw  the  laden  wagons  scarce 
need  the  crack  of  the  driver '9  whip,  so  eagerly  do  they 


198  THE   HORTONS;   OB 

stretch  to  the  work.  Sometimes  a  careless  wight  slips 
into  the  canal,  and  is  drawn  out  jeered  and  dripping; 
or  an  axe  drops  to  the  bottom  beyond  recovery.  It  is 
a  scene  to-day  of  human  industry — to-morrow,  the 
rabbit  and  bunting  may  return  to  the  wood-belted 
banks,  and  the  muskrat  take  his  "constitutional"  un 
disturbed  ;  and  find  nothing  new  but  wheel-tracks  and 
the  pellicle  of  last  night's  freezing. 

The  wind  is  rising.  There  is  a  chill  in  the  roseate 
sunset.  And  now  the  moon  is  up,  and  the  glow  in  the 
west  grows  dimmer  and  distant.  "Where  the  road  dips 
into  shadow,  Bradley  starts  at  the  sudden  scraping  of  a 
riddle  to  meet  a*  bumpkin  going  to  a  country  dance. 
Here  is  the  stone  bridge  with  a  ghostly  coping,  and 
the  skeleton  willows  below  complaining  in  the  blast. 
Yonder  bulges  Prospect  Hill,  with  its  lone  warder  of  a 
poplar,  which  can  be  seen  thirty  miles  out  on  the  bay. 
The  Cedars  hospitality  is  a  league  before,  but  the  liga 
ments  of  his  steed  are  toughened  by  livery  usage,  ana 
the  sharpened  instinct  of  the  veteran  snuffeth  the  man 
ger  afar  off.  At  length  the  lights  of  the  mansion  twin 
kle  palely.  It  is  the  avenue,  though,  what  with  bare 
branches,  and  evergreens  half  snow  half  sombreness, 
it  has  suffered  a  weird  and  unfamiliar  change.  The 
gates  are  propped  wide  open  in  a  hearty  carelessness 
of  trespass.  With  a  burst,  the  dogs  come  out  and 
bark.  The  wheels  stop,  and  ostler  Sam  slouches  for 
ward,  and  keeps  the  pack  at  bay.  Then,  there  is  light, 
and  warmth,  and  welcome;  fragrant  Mocha  and  savory 
rashers  for  man,  and  an  unaccustomed  extravagance  of 
straw  and  oats  for  beast;  aad  sleep  for  both,  with 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME.  199 

beatific  visions  sliding  into  the  soul  of  Bradley,  and  a 
horrid  nightmare  of  the  Slumptown  stables  for  the  raw- 
boned  steed. 

The  ample,  fur-lined  sleigh  was  before  The  Cedars 
piazza,  and  the  horses  were  flinging  their  necks  impa 
tiently. 

"Charley,  go  hurry  your  sister  and  Mr.  Horton — 
what  keeps  them?  My  nose  is  freezing — how  provok 
ing." 

"I'll  polish  it  for  you,  Rose." 

"  Away,  sir !  Take  that  for  your  roughness ! — Here 
they  are,  at  last." 

"Now,  Sam,  give  me  the  leather,  and  take  off  their 
jackets  —  still  —  still!  —  tuck  them  about  my  feet — 
G'lang!  and  shake  out  your  ringlets,"  says  Mr.  Charles 
Bardleigh ;  and  with  a  nimble  show  of  hoofs  that  send 
the  snow  shooting  behind,  they  are  off. 

What  wonder,  when  the  stars  came  out  and  the 
night  wind  lifted  up  its  surly  voice,  that  the  blood  con 
gealed  more  and  more  in  the  pretty  face  of  Rose  Stuve- 
sant.  What  wonder,  too,  that  Master  Bardleigh  in  his 
solicitude  for  her  comfort  brought  a  salutary  glow  to 
her  cheek ;  or  that  the  warm  blood  sallied  in  force  to 
occupy  the  outposts  of  his  own,  challenged  by  the  play 
of  his  cousin's  eyelashes.  Who  among  us,  when  we 
summon  the  frolicsome  days  of  our  youth  to  give  up 
their  dead,  do  not  welcome  a  resurrection  of  merry 
ghosts?  Ah!  the  current  of  our  lives  is  cold  and 
sluggish  now,  but  something  of  the  old  torpedo  thrill 
will  answer  to  the  touch  of  memory  yet. 

Less    ebullient,   perhaps,   were  the    feelings  which 


200  THE   HOETONS;   OR 

cloistered  in  the  bosoms  of  Bradley  and  Lydia — for  it 
is  a  delusion  of  the  enamored  train,  that  their  sensibil 
ity  is  hidden  from  the  world.  Alas!  enough  of  the 
rapture  will  escape  to  betray  its  presence.  Delightful 
infatuation!  'Twas  a  divine  spark  which  kindled  these 
unquenchable  fires  of  love.  Adam  and  Eve  rejoice 
alone  in  their  Eden,  unconscious  of  another  garden. 

"This  visible  nature,  and  this  common  world, 
Is  all  too  narrow." 

The  dream  of  the  boy  was  a  poor  prelude  to  this 
regality  of  the  man,  when  the  heart  of  the  woman 
assents  with  passion.  Now — 'tis  a  kingdom!  Conceal 
ment,  the  dragon,  which  stands  between  other  lives,  is 
stricken  down  for  them  by  the  good  angel  Choice. 

Johnson  was  right  when  he  classed  rapid  motion 
among  the  keenest  relishes  of  existence ;  albeit  it  may 
be  suspected  that  his  conception  of  a  sleigh-ride  was 
not  so  well  defined  as  his  notion  of  dinners  and  dispu 
tations  at  the  Mitre.  What  approbation  he  would  have 
growled  could  he  have  sped  twent}r  miles  in  the  nip 
ping  air  to  the  mingled  music  of  bells  and  grating  run 
ners.  And  this,  though  the  blinking  "Roman"  might 
not  see  a  vision  vouchsafed  to  many  a  cooing  couple — 

"Flying  between  the  cold  moon  and  the  earth, 
Cupid  all  arm'd" — 

A  gay  time  had  been  concerted,  and  as  they  drove 
from  mansion  to  mansion  repeated  accessions  kept  the 
friskiness — a  decorous  jollity — at  a  high  mark.  Some 
times  the  approach  of  a  crew  of  wild  fellows  was  an 
nounced  afar  off  by  the  vigorous  blowing  of  a  horn — 
sometimes  a  convivial  stave  was  raised,  with  a  tremen- 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  201 

dous  chorus;  or  a  party,  oblivious  of  the  hour,  and 
gone  in  their  cups  clean  into  the  next  day,  shouted 
inharmoniously  together, 

"Behold  how  brightly  breaks  the  morning!" 

Then,  an  upset  group  was  passed,  scrambling  in  a 
snow-drift,  or  a  youthful  cavalcade,  masquerading  as 
pioneers  in  grotesque  habiliments,  brandished  the 
stumps  of  brooms  as  they  sat  or  slipped  on  bare 
backed  mules,  and  bandied  bacchanal  jokes  of  a 
punchy  flavor. 

Mirth  beamed  from  the  ladies'  eyes  and  music 
tripped  from  their  tongues,  ere  they  got  to  their 
destination,  Woodlawn,  the  old-fashioned  seat  of  Gen 
eral  Cleaver,  a  hale  and  venerable  hero,  who,  like 
Caesar,  gave  the  world  his  commentaries,  and,  like 
Coriolanus,  objected  to  showing  it  his  scars.  The 
general,  however,  knew  the  merits  of  a  well  adminis 
tered  commissariat,  and  his  granddaughter,  on  whom 
he  doted,  sprightly  Norah  McManus,  presided  at  his 
luxurious  board. 

There  was  a  dance,  of  course,  and  plenty  of  the 
general's  choicest  flip,  duly  heated  with  a  polished 
poker  kept  for  the  purpose — hearty  talk,  and  raillery 
without  malice — games,  and  romping.  The  general 
had  been  on  the  turf,  in  his  day,  and  bragged  to  the 
men  of  his  racers.  He  deplored,  with  befitting  com 
mendation,  the  untimely  fate  of  a  favorite  jockey,  who 
went  off  triumphant,  declining  to  break  his  neck  short 
of  the  winning  post.  While  distributing  his  fine,  old- 
school  cornpliirents  among  the  ladies,  he  recalled,  in  a 


202  .THE  HORTONS;   OB 

glow  of  pathetic  admiration,  the  glorious  beauties  in 
whose  sunshine  he  had  basked — "In  my  prime,  sir — 
when  women  were  appreciated."  There  was  a  supper 
which  the  shade  of  Lucullus  need  not  have  disdained, 
so  urging  was  the  terrapin,  and  so  savory  the  canvas- 
backs,  while  the  roasted  oysters  were  done  to  a  turn 
of  the  singeing  of  their  beards.  Woodlawn,  in  short, 
was  redolent  of  feasting,  and  gay  with  an  unstinted 
measure  of  fun;  and  when  the  rearward  of  the  merry 
makers  departed,  cocks  were  greeting  sleepily  the 
last  watch  of  the  night.  Out  upon  your  Typees, 
whether  civilized  or  savage,  and  though  they  be  never 
so  exquisitely  painted  from  a  master's  palette,  and 
allot  us  still,  O  open-handed  nature,  the  generous 
roughness  of  our  northern  clime ! 

In  the  homeward  drive  the  lovers  conversed  in  a 
tone  subdued  just  below  the  jingle  of  the  sleigh-bells. 
Rose  was  sleepy,  and  Charley  Bardleigh  had  enough 
to  do  in  the  dark  to  watch  the  fences  and  drifts. 

"  This  has  been  a  night  to  remember,  Lydia." 

"I  have  been  very  happy — and  I  have  been  merry, 
too." 

"You  put  the  mirth  last?" 

"Yes;  for  I  felt  above  it." 

"Darling,  I  understand  you!"  said  Bradley,  gently 
encircling  her  waist  with  his  arm. 

For  some  time  they  spake  in  soul-talk-pressures — 
breathings — a  common  consciousness. 

"Bradley!  I  am  proud  because  I  do  not  belong  to 
myself." 

"My  noble  love,  I  live  only  for  you!" 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME.  203 

"Thank  God,  for  this  holy  trust  in  each  other!"  said 
Lydia. 

"  It  comes  from  heaven,"  said  Bradley. 

"  It  gushes  from  heaven.  The  very  stars  reflect  our 
joy,  Bradley!" 

"Then  let  them  shine,  there  is  enough  in  my  heart 
for  all  the  constellations." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  It  may  be,  our  happiness  is  too  precious  to  last," 
reflected  Lydia,  pensively. 

"  My  dear,  do  not  cloud  the  future  with  doubts." 

"I  will  not.     It  is  ingratitude ;  and  yet — " 

"I  beseech  you,  blast  not  our  roses — Not  another 
gloomy  word,"  and  Bradley  placed  his  hand  tenderly 
upon  her  mouth. 

Putting  it  aside,  she  said,  in  accents  of  pleasure, 
"May  I  not  speak,  then,  dear?" 

"Yes,  and  make  my  ears  your  slaves;  but  not  to 
torture  them." 

Judge  Bardleigh,  while  perceiving  the  attachment 
of  Bradley  and  his  daughter,  had  been  content  to 
perceive  it  in  silence — he  felt  sure  there  could  be  no 
''Jessica  at  The  Cedars.  At  dinner  next  day,  a  quiet 
family  repast,  he  proposed  to  his  visitor  an  hour  or 
two  of  skating  on  the  fish-pond.  The  ladies  determined 
to  go  along.  While  they  were  preparing,  the  judge 
took  Bradley,  who  had  requested  an  interview,  aside  to 
his  "den,"  as  he  styled  a  room  specially  appropriated 
to  himself,  which  contained  a  jumble  of  furniture  and 
lumber.  The  pretext,  was  a  search  for  straps. 

"Sit  down,  sir,"  said  the  judge,  who  was  looking 
grave. 


204  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

Bradley  started  and  flushed,  but  managed  to  phrase 
intelligibly,  if  not  aptly,  his  petition. 

"I  am  satisfied  of  the  earnestness  of  youi  feelings, 
and  that  they  are  returned,"  said  the  judge. 

"I  assure  you,  sir,  'earnestness'  is  a  weak  word  to 
describe  them." 

The  judge  smiled,  and  continued. 

"So  be  it.     I  would  not  have  you  say, 

' comes  in  her  father, 

Arid,  like  the  tyrannous  breathing  of  the  north, 
Shakes  all  our  buds  from  growing.' 

But  there  are  prudential  considerations;  so  let  us  be 
explicit.  I  do  not  stipulate,  in  this  matter,  for  wealth, 
but  a  plain  sufficiency — for  a  man's  breath  is  in  his 
nostrils.  I  suspect  you  will  have  it,  but  I  am  not  sure. 
I  tell  you  frankly,  that  I  am  not  so  rich  as  I  seem ;  for 
I  have  lived  generously.  While  I  am  writing  a  letter, 
take  this  sheet  and  put  down  a  short  statement  of  your 
expectations — and  leave  margin  enough  for  the  lady." 

Bradley  was  confounded.  A  moment's  reflection, 
however,  showed  him  the  justness  of  the  demand.  It 
was  prompted  by  no  sordid  solicitude,  but  by  the  affec 
tionate  anxiety  of  a  parent.  He  finished  the  memo 
randum  while  the  judge  was  yet  employed,  and  sat 
watching  him  with  a  new  and  strange  interest.  The 
stream  of  this  man's  blood,  he  thought,  would  mingle 
with  his  own.  He  saw  a  tiny  hand  upon  the  sceptre 
given  him  by  that  one  beloved  woman,  and  he  wel 
comed  the  rival  to  the  throne. 

"It  contents  me,"  said  the  judge,  after  an  examina 
tion  of  the  paper.  "Let  us  return  to  the  ladies." 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME. 


205 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 


I  do  well  remember  there  was  a  ghost  in  the  narrative,  my  lord. 

OLD  PLAT. 


HEY  were  talking  of  ghosts.  It  was 
twilight,  and  the  flickering  fire  made 
appropriate  shadows  on  the  wall — un- 
coerced,  it  observes  no  other  com- 
Pact — illustrative  of  the  topic. 

"And  do  you  really  believe  in 
them,  uncle — now,  tell  us?"  asked 
Rose. 

"Well,  seeing  is  believing,  I  sup 
pose,"  said  the  judge. 
"So  you've  seen  a  ghost,  sir?"  said  Kose,  in  a  dainty 
little  flutter. 

"I  saw  an  apparition — whist!" 

"How  absurd.     We  are  impatient  to  hear  all  about 
it." 

"Because  you   ladies  won't  keep   secrets,  you  will 
have  TIB  to  blab.     No,  no." 

"Now,  no  more  nonsense,  uncle." 
"It  was  the  ghost  of  a  government  contractor." 
"What's  that?"  asked  Rose,  innocently. 
"A  fellow  who  snakes  lots  of  money  out  of  the 
treasury  (after  bribing  congressmen  or  a  chief  clerk) 
18 


206  THE   HORTONS;    OK 

for  pretending  to  do  something;  and  always  has  an  un 
settled  claim,  Miss  Stupid,"  struck  in  Charley  Bard- 
leigh. 

"There  was  no  smell  of  brimstone,"  said  the  judge. 

"  Pshaw !  what  a  proser  you  are,  uncle  Bardleigh." 

"It  was  at  the  junction  of  the  A railroad,  where 

I  stopped  overnight  that  I  might  take  an  early  morn 
ing  train.  The  tavern  stands  quite  alone,  and  a 
more  dismal,  dissocial  hostlery  was  never  dubbed  an 
inn." 

"Delicious!"  said  Eose.     "Was  there  any  owls?" 

"  The  night  was  too  gusty  for  me  to  hear  them,  if 
there  was.  A  spectral  cat  came  down  the  chimney  about 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  the  gale  was  piping 
ts  loudest.  The  door  would  not  latch,  for  the  settling 
of  the  frame;  and  I  had  to  stop  several  broken  panes 
with  my  less  voluminous  garments.  There  was  a  sus 
picious  shed  just  under  tne  window,  which  made  me  a 
little  anxious,  and  I  secured  the  sash  as  well  as  I  could 
with  my  pocket-knife." 

"Wasn't  that  the  place  where  the  drover  was  mur 
dered?"  asked  Charley,  glancing  at  Rose. 

"I  don't  know;  it  looked  like  a  candidate  for  a 
murder — to  drop  the  sense  of  the  Latin  primitive." 

"Had  you  not  a  light  all  this  time?"  asked  Rose. 

"I  had — a  tallow  dip;  which  burned  dim. — I  forgot 
to  mention  the  branch  of  an  old  tree,  which  made 
oiysterious  noises  on  the  outside  wall,  except  when  it 
seemed  to  groan — " 

"Like  a  person  in  distress?"  asked  Rose. 

"Very  like. — I  had  got  under  the  blankets,  and  was 


AMEKICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  207 

speculating  on  the  felicity  afforded  by  fire-arms  in  such 
a  situation,  and  wishing  for  even  my  grandfather's 
hanger,  which  he  took .  from  one  of  Burgoyne's  men, 
when  I  heard  a  crash  and  voices  in  altercation.  I  got 
out  of  bed,  and,  shading  the  candle  with  my  hat,  passed 
into  the  entry.  The  draft  was  too  strong  for  the  feeble 
light,  and  out  it  went." 

"What  an  exciting  situation.  Did  it  not  send  a 
shiver  over  you,  uncle?" 

"Yes,  my  dear;  as  I  was  in  thin  apparel.  Just  as 
my  light  went  out,  a  ghastly  figure,  with  another  taper, 
turned  an  angle  of  the  passage.  It  came  toward  me, 
paused,  and  spoke — " 

"Aloud?" 

"Yes,  aloud;  though  in  a  cavernous  voice." 

"What  did  it  say?" 

"'Judge  Bardleigh — as  I'm  a  sinner  1'  and  it  trem 
bled,  visibly." 

"How  odd!— but  that  wasn't  all?" 

"  The  voice  I  recognized ;  I  should  never  have  known 
the  appearance.  It  was — and  here  the  confidence 
comes  in — who,  years  before,  after  squandering  his 
fortune,  had  slipped  his  bail  and  fled  the  country  to 
escape  the  consequence  of  a  forgery  he  had  committed. 
He  was  thought  to  have  died  abroad.  Worn  out  in 
body;  timid  in  movement;  care-stricken  in  aspect;  he 
stood  before  me  a  suppliant  for  silence.  He  had  tra 
velled,  in  a  restless  and  profitless  career,  through  many 
lands,  and  here,  at  last,  near  the  graves  of  his  ancestors, 
he  was  hiding,  yet  afraid  to  linger,  and  almost  penni 
less.  I  spared  him  what  aid  I  could,  and  we  parted." 


208  THE   HORTONS;    OE 

"And  there  was  no  ghost,  after  all." 

"  Only  the  ghost  of  the  man's  former  self.  Arabs  on 
the  plain,  my  Pekuah !  are  more  dreadful  than  all  the 
Pharaohs  in  the  pyramid." 

"  If  you  want  my  opinion,  uncle  Bardleigh,  the  story 
is  not  in  the  least  interesting." 

"Judge!  you're  a  great  scholard,  and  knows  fluxions 
as  I've  heern  say,  but  I  reckon  a  rael  sperit  would  top- 
sawyer  you." 

They  all  started  at  the  utterance  of  this  unexpected 
impeachment. 

"O !  it's  you,  Uncle  Steve — How  did  you  come?" 

"Wai,  judge,"  explained  the  oracular  Trencher,  "I 
stopped  to  tell  you  I  found  that  pointer  pup  you  lost, 
out  in  the  woods,  pesky  bad  with  the  'stemper,  and  I 
was  showed  to  the  door,  but,  your  folks  being  a  argyin 
like,  you  didn't  hear  me  knock,  so  I  opened  the  door, 
walked  in  and  sot  down,  thinkin'  I'd  wait  a  spell  till 
you  got  through." 

"If  the  pup's  as  much  obliged  to  you  as  I  am,  Uncle 
Steve,  he's  a  grateful  dog.  I'll  send  for  him  to-mor 
row." 

"There  was  high  doins  down  our  way  last  night. 
They  unhung  nearly  all  the  gates,  and  carried  some  of 
them  clean  off.  Old  marm  Fougeroy  found  Brady's 
tied  to  her  cow  this  morning,  and  that's  more'n  two 
miles  off.  Brady  had  just  got  it  as  I  come  along,  and 
was  a  drivin'  spikes  over  the  hinges.  He  was  'tarnal 
mad — says  they  stole  the  latch,  and  if  he  can  find  out 
who  it  was  he'll  have  them  up  before  the  grand  jury." 

"Good  people,  I  hope  your  hands  are  innocent  of  this 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT   HOME.  209 

grave  offence — My  folks,  you  see,  were  on  a  frolic  last 
night,  Uncle  Steve,"  said  the  judge. 

"  Went  nary  gate  but  our  own,  which  was  a  right 
eous  one,"  answered  Charley. 

"  I  guess  it  was  some  of  them  rapscallions  from  Bull 
frog.  They  don't  stop  at  nothing  ornery.  Last  winter 
they  bored  a  hole  clean  through  the  weather-boarding 
at  Gabriel  Wamblebees,  and  drawed  off  all  the  apple 
jack  in  his  barrel.  Wai,  I  guess  I  must  be  a  goin'. 
Its  desp'rate  cold  to-night." 

"  I'll  see  you  out,  Uncle  Steve,"  said  the  judge,  mirth 
fully,  in  view  of  the  parting  intimation. 

That  winter's  week  at  The  Cedars,  alas !  was  too  soon 
spent,  and  Bradley  bade  the  family  good-bye.  He  left, 
not  as  a  lover  trembling  with  uncertainty,  but  with 
store  of  hope,  and  just  enough  melancholy  to  make  it 
piquant.  The  judge  mounted  his  horse  to  look  at  his 
cattle,  some  of  the  favorite  Devons  he  was  feeding  into 
prodigies  of  tallow,  and  rode  with  his  guest  a  few  fields 
length. 

"  Show  your  grit,  my  boy — and  God  bless  you  I"  was 
his  benediction. 


18* 


210 


THE   HOKTONS;    OB 


CHAPTEE   XXIY. 

This  is  a  notable  couple — and  have  met 
But  for  some  secret  knavery. — OLD  PLAT. 

HE  Great  Eepublic  has  produced  en 
gineers  whose  works  in  magnitude 
and  magnificence  have  not  been  any 
where  surpassed  in  modern  times; 
and  it  is  in  no  spirit  of  unfairness 
toward  other  Americans,  of  perhaps 
equal  merit,  that  the  names  and 
achievements  of  Serrell,  Ellet,  La- 
trobe,  and  Meigs,  are  cited  to  estab 
lish  the  assertion. 
Bradley  Horton  was  proud  to  be  a  fellow-laborer  of 
these.  There  was  certainly  no  fame  to  be  got  out  of 
the  Tecumseh  bridge,  his  initial  undertaking.  The 
Tecumseh  Tomahawk,  indeed,  while  it  was  yet  only  a 
plan,  promised  that  it  should  prove  "a  stately  struc 
ture,  unostentatiously  graceful,  and  far  more  useful 
than  Cleopatra's  Needle,"  and  that  it  would  "rise  like 
an  exhalation;"  but  so  wide  is  the  world,  even  the 
plunges  of  the  Tomahawk  scarcely  left  a  shiver  on  tho 
surface  of  human  affairs. 

Tecumseh  was  delightfully  situated   among  breezy 
hills,  and  was  a  lovely  place  to  be  lazy  in  on  a  long 


AMERICAN"  LIFE   AT  HOME.  211 

summer's  day;  for,  billiards  left  behind,  you  might 
smoke  on  some  cool  lawn  with  cultivated  men,  or  eat 
raspberries  and  ice-cream  in  a  honey-suckled  piazza 
with  charming  women  in  white,  who  could  gallant  fans 
with  the  love-inspiring  brunettes  of  Castile.  A  crowd 
was  never  known  in  the  place  except  during  court 
week,  and  at  the  agricultural  fair.  The  nearest  ap 
proach  to  it  was  upon  the  arrival  of  the  evening  train, 
when  a  group  of  worthy  burghers  might  be  found 
assembled  at  each  of  the  two  hotels,  awaiting  the  news 
and  commenting  upon  current  affairs.  Nobody  had 
been  hanged  at  Tecumseh  in  a  score  of  years,  and 
included  among  its  notable  inhabitants  was  the  tallest 
man  in  the  county.  But  its  press  was  the  glory  of  the 
town.  This  consisted  of  two  weekly  newspapers,  the 
Tomahawk  and  the  Torch,  the  first  of  which  was  Re 
publican  and  the  last  Democratic,  and  they  were  edited 
respectively  by  Mr.  Joab  Slunk  and  Doctor  Scammony. 
Joab  Slunk  was  a  semi- educated  writer  and  roaring 
politician,  in  a  state  of  perpetual  incandescence,  who 
strove  to  be  venomous,  and  usually  succeeded  in  being 
vulgar.  Yet  he  had  once  or  twice  achieved  the  expen 
sive  dignity  of  libel.  He  was  a  square,  hollow-chested 
man,  who  walked  with  a  shuffling  stoop,  characteristic 
of  his  moral  conduct.  There  was  something  insalubri 
ous  in  his  whole  aspect,  especially  in  his  complexion, 
which  was  the  color  of  inferior  putty.  Yet  no  god  of 
all  who  ruled  the  middle  air  from  high  Olympus,  when 
the  quaking  sphere  answered  his  nod,  could  have  sur 
passed  in  self-esteem  the  cadaverous  editor  of  the  Toma 
hawk. 


212  THE   HORTONS;      OR 

It  was  opposite  the  office  of  the  Tomahawk  that 
Bradley  one  day  met  Bartimeus  Scroggs  and  Mordeoai 
Dabster,  who  walked  with  him  to  the  bridge. 

"Ah!  'tis  a  bridge  of  size,  I  see,"  said  Dabster, 
nudging  Scroggs  at  the  idiotic  emphasis,  who  gravely 
asked  him  what  he  wanted. 

"I've  just  bought  the  mosquito  meadows,  and  I 
mean  to  have  them  drained  to  promote  the  health  of 
the  town,"  remarked  Scroggs. 

"It  is  a  most  benevolent  project,  and  will  justly 
entitle  you  to  be  considered  a  public  benefactor,"  re 
plied  Bradley. 

"  Why,  yes,  I  expect  to  add  some  reputation  of  that 
kind  to  the  undeserved  stock  I  have  already  acquired." 

"  And  it  is  a  stock  in  trade  you  always  have  a  mar 
ket  for,"  remarked  Dabster. 

"I  will  not  deny  that  I  have  sometimes  found  money 
in  it,  my  friends,  but  I  desire  only  the  recompense  in 
my  own  bosom,  and  the  approbation  of  the  spirit 
world,"  said  Scroggs. 

"  The  draining  you  propose  is  the  more  meritorious 
that  it  will  be  a  costly  labor,"  observed  Bradley. 

"O,  I  only  mean  to  pay  my  share  of  the  expense. 
We  will  employ — I  will  make  it  worth  your  while  to 
consider  this  confidential — a  little  innocent  artifice  to 
excite  the  public  spirit  of  the  place." 

"Spotted  fever  with  black  tongue — twig,  my  ace  of 
spades?"  added  Dabster. 

Bradley  confessed  himself  unable  to  comprehend  the 
explanation. 

"We  shall  take  the  liberty,"  continued  Scroggs,  "to 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT  HOME.  213 

demonstrate  the  extreme  unhealthiness  of  the  meadows 
by  examples  of  an  epidemic.  We  have  several  cases 
of  bilious-remittent,  and  an  African  just  recovering  of 
small-pox.  The  latter  is  horribly  speckled,  and  was 
procured  with  some  trouble  by  Dabster,  who  is  about 
to  operate  more  largely  in  our  vineyard  of  philanthro 
pic  politics.  These  will  be  attacked  at  the  same  time, 
and  with  great  violence.  We  have  also  a  subject  in. 
molasses,  who  was  drowned  and  is  much  swollen,  for  a 
post-mortem.  The  unfortunate  deceased  was  one  of 
your  laborers,  just  arrived  when  taken  with  a  conges 
tive  chill,  and  Doctor  Scammony  will  examine  the 
body.  Slunk  and  Scammony  are  both  with  us,  and 
will  sound  an  alarm,  terrify  the  people,  and  secure  an 
appropriation  for  our  project  from  the  town  commis 
sioners.  They  had  the  disease  at  Sparta,  only  twelve 
miles  off,  you  know,  a  few  weeks  since.  Fraud,  my 
dear  sir,  is  pious  when  it  promotes  the  welfare  of  our 
fellow-creatures;  and  as  to  them  sickly  meadows,  they 
are  running  down  fast  to  cattails,  and  the  croak  of  the 
very  frogs  is  agueish." 

Bartimeus  Scroggs  failed  aforetime  to  get  the  nomi 
nation  for  Congress  which  he  sought ;  and  thus  it  was. 
After  many  ballottings  in  the  convention  he  lacked  but 
two  votes  of  a  majority  over  his  two  competitors. 
One  of  these  retired  and  carried  his  support  to  the 
other,  Orator  Puffin.  Three  of  his  voters,  however, 
held  off.  To  catch  these  patriots,  Scroggs  east  baited 
hooks.  The  night  of  final  trial  arrived,  and  might 
have  brought  triumph  to  Bartimeus  but  for  an  unfore 
seen  occurrence.  There  was  a  famous  medium  in 


214  THE   HOKTONS;    OB 

town,  who  pretended  to  heal  the  halt,  withered,  and 
infirm.  This  medium  was  originally  influenced  by 
the  spirit  of  the  celebrated  Fordyce,  and  took  to  the 
line  of  fevers.  In  course  of  time  (speaking  humanly, 
and  not  in  the  language  of  the  "spheres")  Fordyce 
introduced  him  to  a  college  of  departed  surgeons, 
willing  to  give  their  skill  sublunary  airings  on 
demand.  Their  manipulations  through  the  medium 
required  an  assistant  in  the  flesh,  and  Scroggs  volun- 
teere<^  to  act  the  part.  On  the  night  which  was  to 
establish  or  disappoint  his  personal  aspirations,  assured 
that  the  clinical  business  would  be  speedily  over,  he 
smiled  benignly  from  a  platform  the  fattest  of  his 
smiles  upon  the  assembled  crutchees,  some  of  whom  he 
expected  to  be  his  constituents.  Now,  the  healing 
medium/  made  merry  with  choice  spirits  of  the  earth, 
failed  to  appear  at  the  appointed  hour.  As  time 
lapsed,  the  assistant  grew  fidgetty  and  the  patients 
mutinous.  Messengers  were  in  vain.  So  were  as- 
suasive  explanations;  the  cripples  had  come  to  be 
healed,  and  found  no  benefit  in  the  words  of  Barti- 
meus.  One,  with  a  wooden  leg,  considered  them 
"gammon."  The  time  for  the  meeting  of  the  conven 
tion  was  already  past,  there  was  but  one  way  of  exit, 
and  Scroggs  charged  upon  the  cripples.  Desperate, 
they  formed  to  repel  him.  The  most  determined  cour 
age  was  useless  against  such  an  array.  Then  the 
cripples  charged  to  the  last  crutch,  and  beat  him  back. 
Unavailingly  he  pleaded  the  importance  of  his  engage 
ment.  The  man  with  the  wooden  leg,  who  had  been 
constituted  leader,  was  an  unnaturalized  citizen,  and 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  215 

scorned  the  appeal.  While  Scroggs  was  thus  im 
prisoned,  Puffin  insidiously  circulated  a  report  that  he 
had  thrown  up  the  contest.  The  three  withholdexB 
became  alarmed.  In  another  half  hour  they  were 
jpen  to  conviction;  and  fifteen  minutes  afterward,  in 
the  conscientious  discharge  of  their  duty,  they  voted 
for  the  Orator. 

And  Bartimeus  Scroggs  did  not  go  to  Congress — 
to  its  detriment.  But  the  public  anguish  at  his  defeat 
was  assuaged  by  the  selection  of  Puffin,  Tsrho  was 
altogether  as  radical,  and  who  could  emit  a  great  deal 
of  facile  and  ferocious  rhetoric  at  short  notice.  Ho 
was  a  fine  accountant,  and  could  tell  blindfolded  how 
many  eggs  any  department  nest  contained,  and,  with 
prophetic  discernment,  what  they  would  hatch,  whether 
old  blunderbusses,  or  the  mounting  of  a  cavalry  regi 
ment;  and  he  probably  smelt  their  interiors.  Not 
that  Puffin  was  corrupt.  On  the  contrary  he  was 
incorruptible.  All  his  constituents  were  incorruptible. 
Also  his  clients — when  they  paid.  His  legislative 
career  was  brilliant;  at  least,  the  newspapsr  corres 
pondents  telegraphed  and  wrote  as  much,  and  he  told 
them  so.  Ah!  very  pleasant  are  our  recollections  of 
Puffin  flitting  from  camp  to  camp  to  inspirit  the  de 
jected  soldiers  with  his  furious  eloquence.  Perh&pg 
it  was  this  peripatetic  patriotism  which  induced  some 
to  describe  him  as  a  frothy  demagogue.  But  these 
were  his  envious  enemies.  Could  they  have  made 
speeches  equal  to  Puffin's,  they  would  have  made  them 
at  the  cannon's  mouth. 


216 


THE  HORTONS;    OB 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

The  evening  darkness  gathers  round 

By  virtue's  holiest  powers  attended. — WOHDSWOHTH. 

event  now  occurred  which  was  to 
affect  the  relations  of  the  family 
whose  fortunes  constitute  the  staple 
of  this  chronicle.  Clement  Horton 
was  stricken  with  paralysis,  and  de 
prived  of  the  use  of  his  lower  limbs. 
In  this  condition  it  was  apparent  that 
he  would  long  remain,  if,  indeed,  he 
survived.  In  a  few  weeks  it  was 
determined  that  Davenport  should  be 
entrusted  to  accomplish  the  gradual  settlement  of  the 
city  business,  which  was  become  narrowed  of  late,  and 
that  Bradley  should  take  charge  of  affairs  at  Brent- 
lands.  The  year's  falling  leaves,  the  sudden  death  of 
a  young  bridegroom,  or  the  fruit  of  hope  ashes  on  the 
lips  of  the  fever-stricken,  do  not  moralize  you  better  of 
the  vanity  of  earthly  things  than  the  evolation  from  the 
world  of  a  great  business  house.  Poor  Davenport  had 
a  melancholy  time  of  it  dissecting  his  own  nervea. 

As  a  nebula  is  resolved  by  a  telescope  into  lights  in 
the  firmament,  so  do  the  holy  affections  of  woman, 
which  thitherto  showed  only  in  the  milder  guise  of 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME.  217 

grace  and  gentleness,  appear  at  the  summons  of  suffer 
ing.  No  wounds  are  too  ghastly,  no  effluvium  is  too 
noisome,  no  vigils  are  too  exacting,  no  offices  are  too 
humble.  Full  of  supernal  love,  she  bares  a  chaste 
breast  in  holy  bounty !  To  such  a  ministress  the  foul 
breath  of  the  hospital  is  more  salubrious  than  are  odors 
of  the  conservatory  to  the  soulless  votary  of  fashion. 
From  such,  sweet  influences  of  speech  and  smile  are 
shed,  and  a  fragrance  is  diffused  throughout  human 
lives,  and  seed,  perchance,  sown  to  blossom  in  eternity. 
It  is  ihus  woman  sympathizes  with  the  languishing 
stranger  by  ten  thousand  pallets.  How  various  is  her 
sway!  She  conquers  by  beautiful  simplicity  on  the 
threshing-floor  of  Boaz,  and  by  slaughter  in  Shushan 
the  palace;  the  poet  of  Olney  sings  at  her  bidding,  and 
the  triumvir  of  Philippi  softens  at  her  wiles;  and  many 
a  shattered  soldier  has  been  summoned  by  the  Great 
Commander  from  a  blessed  vision  of  alleviation  here,  to 
make  her  a  fame  in  heaven.  But  this  is  a  digression. 

Emily  was  now  become  the  light  of  Clement  Horton's 
little  orbit.  The  nursing  daughter  was  queenly  with 
patience.  There  was  no  vulgar  bustle  in  her  alacrity — 
her  voice,  like  Cordelia's, 

was  ever  soft, 

Gentle  and  low — an  excellent  thing  in  woman. 

Her  smile  was  ever  sweetest  when  she  was  truest  to  her 
task.  Her  manner  dignified  the  meanest  occupation; 
it  was  the  motion  of  music  without  the  sound.  And 
you  did  not  feel  it  extravagant  to  think  that  here  was 
some  of  the  same  devotion  by  which  in  the  Roman 
dungeon  Nature  triumphed  in  the  reverse  of  her  decree. 
19 


218  THE  HORTONS;  OB 

Good  Father  Tryon  often  brought  his  cheerful  con 
solations.  In  truth,  they  were  quaint  parcels ;  a  scrap 
of  news  with  a  moral,  a  flash  of  gallantry,  a  rare 
thought  from  Baxter,  a  reminiscence  of  adventure,  a 
familiar  but  unblunted  similitude  from  the  "  prince  of 
dreamers,"  or  something  tougher  fashioned  on  the  anvil 
of  a  puritan  divine,  who  was  intolerant  of  the  shapings 
of  strange  theological  hammermen.  At  these  visits  not 
a  few  projects  fraught  with  good  for  others  were  con 
ceived;  for  Christian  virtue  purgeth  sickness  of  its 
selfishness.  Davenport  sometimes  chanced  to  encounter 
the  worthy  missionary,  whom  he  regarded  with  jealous 
aversion  as  an  intruder  in  the  house  of  Horton,  and  he 
came  at  last  flatly  to  designate  him  a  Jesuit. 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT   HOME. 


219 


CHAPTEE    XXVI. 

To  be  a  husbandman  is  but  a  retreat  from  the  city;  to  be  a  philosopher, 
from  the  world;  or  rather,  a  retreat  from  the  world  as  it  is  man's,  into 
the  world  as  it  is  God's.  But  since  nature  denies  to  most  men  the 
capacity  or  appetite,  and  fortune  allows  but  to  a  very  few  the  oppor 
tunities  or  possibility  of  applying  themselves  wholly  to  philosophy, 
the  best  mixture  of  human  affairs  that  we  can  make  are  the  employ 
ments  of  a  country  life. — COWLEY. 

Brentlands  Bradley  donned  a  suit 
of  homespun,  and  entered  with,  ala 
crity  upon  his  newly  devolved  duties. 
He  rose  before  day,  and  when  its 
work  was  ended  made  up  his  ac 
counts  by  candlelight,  read,  smoked 
his  cob  pipe,  and  went  to  bed  at  nine. 
There  was  husking  of  corn,  and  put 
ting  in  of  wheat — between  one  and 
two  hundred  acres  of  each — and  the 
gathering  of  an  abundant  crop  of  potatoes;  besides  the 
hauling,  feeding,  repairing,  and  numerous  other  labors 
incident  to  the  conduct  of  a  large  landed  property.  He 
placed  the  operations,  great  and  small,  upon  the  basis 
of  system.  He  rated  his  laborers,  by  a  vigilant  inspec 
tion,  at  their  just  value,  and  discharged  the  idle  and 
worthless.  No  implement  was  allowed  to  be  left  in  the 
field  when  the  occasion  for  it  was  past.  If  a  team  was 


220  THE  HORTONS;   OR 

wanted,  no  horse  lacked  a  shoe  nor  wagon-wheel 
required  a  tightening  of  its  tire.  The  cattle  were  pro 
perly  groomed,  and  the  stables  kept  clean,  light,  and 
comfortable.  Broken  fences  were  restored,  and  drains 
cleared  of  obstruction.  Receptacles  were  made  for  the 
fertilizing  ooze  of  stall  and  stock-yard.  He  read  the 
best  agricultural  books,  and  strove  to  keep  fully  up 
with  his  work,  setting  his  crops  seasonably.  Thus  for 
ward,  he  began  the  year  on  a  level  with  his  under 
taking,  and  resolved  that  no  grass  should  grow  in  his 
middles.  The  old  farmers  among  his  neighbors,  who. 
plodded  in  the  routine  of  their  grandfathers,  soon 
ceased  to  laugh,  though  they  continued  to  criticise, 
reluctantly  admitted  him  to  be  a  man  with  a  purpose, 
and,  when  their  prophecies  of  crop  failures  to  his  dis 
comfiture  were  falsified,  accounted  for  the  results  by 
attributing  them  to  happy  accidents. 

The  labors,  various  and  shifting  as  the  aspects  of  the 
seasons,  rarely  irksome,  were  often  exhilarating  in  the 
fresh  air  and  beneath  the  free  sky.  The  bronzed  indus 
try  of  the  fields  which  is  familiar  with  the  elements, 
when  short  of  "drudgery,"  imparts  a  sense  of  lightness 
and  freedom;  though  the  overworked  rustic  may  be 
as  lumpish  as  the  clod  he  turns.  Orchard,  garden, 
nursery,  plantation,  meadow,  and  tillage,  exacting 
timely  thought  and  skill,  crowned  the  year  with  de 
lights.  Fresh  from  the  spray  might  be  plucked  at  their 
periods, 

"  The  blushing  apricot,  and  woolly  peach," 

a  luscious  fruitage  between  the  sprightly  cherry  and 
the  pear  of  mild  and  tender  flesh.     Nor  was  the  ear 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  221 

unsatisfied  where  the  mocking-bird  trilled  its  changeful 
notes,  the  partridge,  frighted  by  the  trespasser's  foot, 
rose  from  its  grassy  nest  with  sudden  whirring,  or  the 
pheasant  drummed  in  the  wood. 

George  Dolman  and  Max  Heyhurst  came  down,  to 
encourage  Bradley  and  have  some  shooting.  Doctor 
Pledget  was  to  have  accompanied  them,  but,  at  the  last 
moment,  he  consulted  his  barometer,  predicted  snow, 
and  staid  at  home.  Heyhurst  was  an  artist,  and  painted 
the  game  which  he  shot.  They  were  genial  fellows, 
electric  with  good  feeling,  who  honored  the  hearty 
welcome  which  was  given  them. 

The  doctor  missed  of  it  when  he  foretold  the  weather 
in  white,  and  after  a  couple  of  days  of  rain  and  half  a 
gale  of  wind,  a  clear-shining  sun  gladdened  the  land 
scape.  The  nice  and  appreciating  eye  of  Max  Hey 
hurst  was  delighted  by  the  rural  picture.  The  sky 
was  in  color  a  hazy  silver  at  the  horizon,  which  gradu 
ally  deepened  to  a  soft  blue  overhead.  The  sunrises 
were  fine,  but  in  the  more  advanced  morning  the 
charms  of  the  prospect  culminated.  Brentlands  was 
high  ground,  and  the  surrounding  country  for  miles 
lay  in  gentle  slopes  below  it — a  mosaic  of  green  wheat 
fields,  and  brown  squares  with  their  long  files  of  maize 
shocks  in  symmetrical  array,  the  succession  being  pic 
turesquely  broken  by  belts  of  nearly  naked  timber. 
Looking  toward  the  east,  the  shadows  of  distant  cattle 
showed  on  the  slanting  umber-tinted  pastures,  as  they 
grazed.  A  mill-pond,  near  to,  responded  to  every 
breeze  with  sparkling  fluctuations.  Half  hid  in  clumps 
of  evergreens,  or  standing  boldly  out  on  eminences,  the 
19* 


222  THE   HORTONS;    OB 

mansions  and  farm-houses  gave  a  human  interest  to  the 
scenery;  here  and  there  a  column  of  smoke  from  their 
chimnies  rising  vertical  and  sluggish.  A  faint  mist 
hung  over  the  course  of  the  remote  river,  and  settled  in 
a  purple  film  upon  its  further  highlands.  At  sunset, 
above  the  cold  and  crimsoned  west,  the  evening  star, 
brighter  than  the  goddess  risen  from  her  yeast  of 
waves,  swam  up  the  heaven  to  meet  the  Night;  oldest 
of  all — not  voiceless  now  as  when  she  knew 


the  secrets  of  the  worlds  unmade." 


Bradley  and  Dolman  stood  chatting,  while  Max 
sketched  a  cornfield  scene  in  November.  There  were 
the  nearest  huskers  pegging  away  among  the  rustling 
stalks — that  almost  rustled  on  the  sheet — and  tossing 
the  liberated  ears  into  the  convenient  heap  of  maize. 
Further  on,  a  group  paused  at  their  labor  to  watch  the 
chase  of  a  rabbit,  which  a  frisking  dog  had  started  from 
its  lair.  Slow  oxen  drew  crib  ward  the  loaded  carts.  A 
flock  of  birds  flitted  low  for  forage  from  a  background 
of  brambles. 

A  red- whiskered  man,  in  a  slouched  hat  and  dirty 
drab  overcoat,  drove  up  in  a  sulky,  and  contemplated 
'he  party  with  considerable  interest. 

"Surveyin'?" 

"Yes,  sir — the  landscape." 

"What  mought  that  be?" 

"Field  and  wood." 

The  red- whiskered  man  scratched  his  head  in  unre 
lieved  perplexity. 

ft  Taking  the  bearins'  like,  I  s'pose ;  though  I  never 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT  HOME.  223 

seen  it  done  this  way  before.  Must  be  a  new  how  of 
cipherin'  it  out. — Mr.  Horton,  I  summons  you  to  appear 
at  Squire  Flicker's  office,  at  Jericho,  next  Saturday 
afternoon." 

Having  delivered  himself  of  the  latter  clause  with 
official  promptitude,  the  constable  imparted  briefly  the 
particulars  of  the  suit,  dispensed  a  general  valediction, 
and  drove  away. 

It  was  a  suit  for  an  old  debt,  which  was  unknown  to 
Bradley.  At  the  appointed  time  the  friends  made  their 
appearance  at  the  tribunal  of  the  squire.  The  temple 
of  justice  was  a  shoemaker's  shop,  furnished  with  a  few 
waxy  chairs,  a  hot  stove,  and  an  offensive  atmosphere, 
scented  with  new  boots  and  the  village's  muggy  muslin 
in  impartial  proportions.  The  male  adults  of  Jericho, 
who  occupied  the  counter,  drawled  neighborhood  gos 
sip  to  each  other,  and  spat  tobacco  juice.  Behind  the 
counter,  Squire  Flicker  consulted  the  "Magistrate's 
Guide,"  and  delivered  weighty  judgments  in  the  law — 
usually  for  the  plaintiffs. 

Several  cases  preceded  Snap  versus  Horton  on  the 
docket,  and  Max  Heyhurst  availed  himself  of  the  delay 
to  sketch  the  court-room  and  its  inmates.  This  pro 
ceeding  at  length  attracted  the  notice  of  the  squire,  as 
possibly  an  intentional  slight  upon  the  dignity  of  the 
magistratic  character. 

"What's  that  man  a  doing  of?"  he  asked  the  con 
stable. 

"Makin'  pictures.  Got  you  there,  Squire — natural 
as  life." 

"What!  me — in  open  court?     This  must  be  stopped. 


224  THE   HOKTONS;    OR 

Young  man!  who  pays  you  for  taking  other  people's 
portraits?" 

The  question,  put  with  stilted  severity,  brought 
Max's  pencil  to  a  stand-still,  and  directed  the  curious 
eyes  of  the  audience  upon  him ;  but  it  nowise  discon 
certed  him. 

"  I've  had,  sir,  a  prodigality  of  money  from  the  illus 
trated  journals.  They  rely  upon  my  pictures  to  save 
their  dull  pages  from  deserved  damnation." 

"Be  cautious,  young  man!"  interrupted  the  squire, 
"or  I  shall  be  obliged  to  put  the  statue  against  profane 
swearing  in  force." 

"May  it  please  the  court,  I  was  only  replying  to  its 
question — " 

"Proceed,"  said  the  squire,  with  dignity,  waving  his 
hand. 

"Latterly,  then,  I  have  been  taking  heads  for  a 
phrenological  publication — was  at  Bedloe's  Island  last 
week  and  got  Boggs,  the  pirate.  I  am  also,  at  present, 
on  a  comic  almanac." 

This  was  too  much.  The  squire  might  almost  doubt 
his  hearing.  He,  the  duly  commissioned  representative 
of  Justice,  while  holding  the  sovereign  scales,  to  be 
drawn  for  a  comic  almanac,  and  prejudiced  in  his  place 
before  assembled  Jericho! 

"Look  here,  mister!  I've  no  doubt  I  might  hold  you 
for  a  constructive  libel,  and  I  advise  you,  in  my  infra- 
judicial  capacity,  to  put  them  things  up  in  that  port- 
mantel." 

Perhaps  it  was  lucky  for  the  delineator  that,  just 
ihen,  an  excited  individual  burst  into  the  court-room 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  225 

with  the  announcement  that,  "Pete  Whitecar  was 
going  to  run  Black  Duke  agin  the  stranger's  chestnut 
for  ten  dollars  and  the  whiskey,  right  away!"  There 
was  a  general  scattering  of  the  audience  to  see  the 
sport.  The  squire  was  curious,  but  the  man  did  not 
prevail  at  once  over  the  magistrate.  "If  it's  a  horse 
race,"  he  remarked,  detaining  the  reluctant  constable, 
who  had  laid  a  bet,  "it's  clearly  against  the  law;  but 
if  it's  only  a  trial  of.  speed,  I'll  go  and  look  at  it." 
And  the  conscientious  Flicker  adjourned  the  court  and 
the  case. 

Max  Hey  hurst  had,  in  his  time,  made  a  happy  emen 
dation  of  Shakespeare,  and  half  a  tragedy  on  Sejanus; 
had  expanded  a  Greek  fable  into  a  pastoral  of  consider 
able  dimensions,  and  written  impassioned  lyrics  for  the 
magazines,  which,  though  the  firiest  stanzas  would  be 
sometimes  omitted  in  a  pressure  of  matter,  were  pro 
nounced  by  the  newspaper  critics  uncommonly  fine 
specimens  of  the  Sapphic  style. 

"And  you  read  Spenser, Horton?"  he  said,  as  he  dis 
engaged  a  London  octavo  which  was  sandwiched  be 
tween  the  "Farmer's  Cyclopedia"  and  "Youatt  on  the 
Horse." 

"Yes." 

"No  poem  in  the  language  contains  so  much  gor 
geous  imagery  as  the 'Faerie  Queene.'  There  is  in  it 
exquisite  delicacy  of  characterization,  tenderness,  vi 
vacity,  learning,  imposing  and  ever-shifting  movement. 
It  is  the  apotheosis  of  Virtue  by  Genius.  How  the 
poet  hives  into  his  own  sweet  measure  the  fable  of 
antiquity,  as  in  the  Descent  oj  Night  into  Hell — how 


'26  THE  HORTONS;   OR 

triumphant  is  Ms  fancy  in  the  enchanted  Castle  of 
Busyrane,  the  House  of  Pride,  and  the  Temple  of 
Fenus!" 

"Is  it  not  too  long?"  asked  Bradley. 

"Only,  as  Shakespeare  is  in  his  entirety,  for  the  dull 
and  lazy — school  exercises  and  spouting  clubs.  Thank 
Heaven !  there  are  some  things  in  the  world — Paradise 
Lest,  Cymbeline,  and  the  Faerie  Queene — that  the 
Morning  Advertiser  cannot  make  a  synopsis  of.  Two 
centuries  and  a  half  ago  people  read  books." 

"Do  you  think  the  'Faerie  Queene'  was  ever  popu 
lar  reading,  like  the  dramatic  poetry  of  that  time?" 

"Why,  a  just  discrimination  is  seldom  exercised  by 
cotemporaries.  'Tis  probable  Marlowe  had,  in  the  six 
teenth  century,  a  higher  rate  than  Chapman  or  Ford — 
that  Heywood  was  more  popular  than  John  Fletcher. 
But  of  the  'Faerie  Queene.'  It  was  written  in  an  age 
through  which  the  marvels  of  discovery  were  being 
filtered — marvels  of  enchantment,  peril,  and  fabulous 
magnificence.  Though  there  remained  beneath  the 
surface  of  society  a  taint  of  the  old  savagery,  the  staple 
of  chivalric  poetry  was  woven  into  the  common  talk 
of  ladies  and  cavaliers.  A  new  world  had  been  found. 
There  was  a  grand  uncertainty  to  be  attempted  by 
adventure,  which  allured  alike  the  heroic,  the  avari 
cious,  and  the  prodigal.  They  who  listened  eagerly  to 
Baleigh's  stories  of  wondrous  wiles,  and  golden  cities 
embosomed  in  Amazonian  forests,  and  guarded  by 
warlike  women,  might  well  hail  a  higher  and  purer 
romance  in  the  encounters  for  distressed  virtue  of  the 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT  HOME.  227 

Kedcrosse  Knight  and  Prince  Arthur  with  dragons, 
giants,  and  enchanters." 

"I  wish  the  author  of  the  'Fall  of  Rome'  would  re 
produce  for  us  'the  city  and  the  gods'  of -the  reign  of 
'Gloriana.' " 

"A  thoughtful  face,  delicate  in  its  lines,  and  but 
little  shorter  than  Sir  Walter's;  mild,  full  eyes,  and  an 
amiable  mouth — O  for  photographs  of  that  grand 
Elizabethan  choir  who  drank  of  the  true  fountains  of 
Parnassus!"  pondered  Heyhurst. 

"  Well,  time  composes  all  things.  Perhaps  there  was 
one,  in  his  day,  to  regard  the  poet,  where  a  thousand 
fawned  upon  Leicester,  and  he  survives  as  the  ambitious 
villain  of  a  romance,"  said  Bradley. 

"Yes. 

'  Pour  out  for  the  Poet! 
The  Wine  of  the  Immortals 
Forbids  him  to  die!' 

Edmund  Spenser  is  more  interesting  to  me  in  the 
society  of  Sidney  at  Penshurst, 

'Beneath  the  broad  beech,  and  the  chesnut  shade  f 

or  pacing  with  Ealeigh  the  banks  of  Mulla,  and  dis 
cussing  the  moral  virtues,  than  Eobert  Dudley  aspiring 
to  a  throne. — Dryden — Pope — Swift — Churchill." 

"  Why,  with  charlatanry  and  corruption  abounding, 
does  not  the  modern  muse  produce  satire?" 

"Because,"  replied  Max,  "it  takes  qualities  to  make 
a  satirical  poet  which  are  rarely  found  combined — a 
keen  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  much  self-esteem  and 
capacity  of  resentment,  quickness  to  perceive  frailties 


228  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

of  character  (which  may  be  quickened  by  disappoint 
ment),  thorough  mastery  of  words,  the  requisite  inspi 
ration,  and  a  liver  complaint." 

"Nay,  after  all,  I  think  the  world  has  mended,"  said 
Bradley. 

"Thousands  of  sewing  women  coining  their  souls 
to  save  their  bodies  from  starvation — O !  Daughters  of 
Zion!  they  might  be  Marys  and  Joannas  at  the  sepul 
chre  of  your  Lord — while  partisan  plunderers  and 
shoddy  seigniors  swarm  and  swell  from  their  native 
ooze,  like  the  filthy  frogs  of  old  Egypt — and  mended?" 

"Take  England,"  continued  Bradley.  "Bacon  would 
not  have  fingered  bribes  in  Walpole's  time,  corrupt  as 
it  was,  and  Walpole  would  not  now  be  tolerated  a 
single  day.  Eead  Macaulay.  Behold  his  statesmen, 
courtiers,  and  soldiers, 

'Calm,  thinking  villains,  whom  no  faith  could  fix.' 

What  a  church  it  was  when  men  were  made  prelates 
by  kings'  mistresses!  "Where  the  religion  of  a  nation 
is  surface-faith;  be  sure  the  devil  digests  its  politics." 


AHEKICAN  LIFE   AT  HOME. 


229 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

Here  feel  we  not  the  penalty  of  Adam, 
The  seasons'  difl'erence;  as,  the  icy  fang, 
And  churlish  chiding  of  the  winter's  wind, 
Which  when  it  bites,  and  blows  upon  my  body, 
Even  till  I  shrink  with  cold,  I  smile,  and  say, 

This  is  no  flattery 

As  You  LIKE  IT. 


NE  day  remained  to  the  visitors,  and 
they  determined  to  enjoy  it.  There 
were  river  coves  celebrated  for  the 
resort  of  ducks,  that  came  to  feed  in 
the  sedge,  and  host  and  guests  resolved 
themselves  into  a  fowling  party.  A 
light  wagon  was  at  the  door  long  be 
fore  day,  and  they  were  rattled  off  over 
the  frozen  road,  careless  of  the  cold 
which  tingled  in  their  advancing  faces.  Arrived  at  the 
river,  they  found  a  boat,  in  which  they  ferried  across  it. 
There  was  then  a  walk  of  some  miles  along  the  shore 
to  the  shooting  ground.  Bradley  laved  his  face  with 
whiskey,  and  poured  it  upon  his  chest,  knowing  its 
freshening  efficacy  when  thus  employed.  Max  took 
the  comfort  internally.  Dolm'an  carried  a  supply  of 
cold  tea,  which  Hey  hurst  insisted  was  a  bequest  of 
choice  catnip  from  his  grandmother. 
20 


230  THE   HORTONS;    OB 

They  kept  on  at  a  steady  pace,  losing  the  dogs  in 
the  darkness,  and  then  recovering  them — slipping  into 
a  ditch,  or  stumbling  at  a  log,  and  reached  the  first 
of  the  feeding-grounds  about  daybreak.  Laying  perdu 
behind  a  screen  of  brush,  they  awaited  in  the  eager  air 
the  approach  of  the  birds,  which  were  yet  beyond  shot. 
At  length  the  ducks  came  circling  shoreward,  urging 
the  water  before  them  gracefully  in  dimples.  The 
almost  simultaneous  reports  of  a  half  dozen  barrels 
invade  the  quiet,  and  are  prolonged  in  echoes.  The 
dogs  plunge  to  their  work  and  bring  the  game,  which 
they  deposit  with  a  shake  of  spray.  The  birds,  at  last. 
are  become  cautious — will  not  be  toled — and  the  sports 
men  try  another  cove. 

Having  dined  at  a  farm-house,  with  less  sumptuous- 
ness  than  appetite,  on  pickled  pork,  sauer  kraut,  and 
pumpkin  pie,  they  reposed  under  the  lee  of  a  settle 
before  the  fire,  and  while  Bradley  got  consolation  from 
his  pipe  and  the  fumes  of  shredded  cavendish,  the 
daintier  artist  soothed  himself  with  an  Havana.  Dol 
man  found  on  the  top  of  the  tall  clock  case  a  tattered 
volume  of  the  Spectator,  and  took  a  stately  turn  in 
Queen  Anne's  London  with  worthy  Sir  Roger.  The 
dogs  slept  on  the  hearth,  or  dodged  the  sputtering 
sparks  of  a  fresh  hickory  log. 

"  We  don't  do  this  every  day,  Max,"  said  Bradley. 

"For  which  let  us  be  thankful.  Who  invented  fer 
mented  cabbage,  George  Dolman?" 

"Hang  it,  don't  bother! — the  'Flying  Dutchman/  I 
suppose." 

"No,  George  Dolman,  it  was  not  that  marine  Hoi- 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME,  231 

lander.  No  man  given  to  bellowing  nautical  commands 
through  a  speaking-trumpet  could  have  invented  fer 
mented  cabbage.  'Twas  a  rural  patriarch,  methinks, 
with  aspirations  'for  the  welfare  of  his  species.  He 
would  have  made  a  nobby  radical." 

"  Nice  stuff  to  fossilise  a  man.  I've  actually  been 
reading  the  same  page  twice  without  Consciousness," 
said  Dolman. 

"Do  you  claim  that  for  an  uncommon  experience?  I 
find  the  reading  of  some  pages  once  sufficient  to  estab 
lish  the  phenomenon,"  said  Max. 

"  A  truce  to  quibbling,  and  let's  tramp." 

"Agreed: 

'  My  boat  is  on  the  shore, 

And  my  bark  is  on  the  sea; 
But,  before  I  go,  Tom  Moore, 
Here'sia  double  health  to  thee !' " 

They  added  several  to  the  count  of  birds  in  their 
game  bags  by  shooting  over  a  long  rea&h  of  shore.  It 
was  after  nightfall  when  they  came  to  the  boat,  and 
pitch-dark  with  a  passing  snow  squall,  from  which  the 
flakes  fell  big  and  spiteful. 

"They  come  down  like  quarter-dollars  and  stick 
closer — George  Dolman !  scrape  the  slush  off  that  seat 
if  you  are  a  compassionate  man." 

They  turned  the  boat's  bow  outward,  and,  bending 
to  the  oars,  sent  her  steadily  on  her  blind  course. 
A.fter  some  minutes  of  rowing,  Bradley's  heavy  boot, 
slipping  at  the  stroke,  displaced  a  plug  in  the  bottom 
of  the  boat,  and  the  water  came  gurgling  in.  They 
groped  for  the  plug  unsuccessfully,  and  not  until  the 


232  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

boat  was  a  third  filled  did  they  succeed  in  stopping  the 
leak  with  a  wad  of  handkerchiefs.  Luckily,  when  they 
were  about  to  divest  themselves  of  their  heavier  gar 
ments  as  an  act  of  precaution,  the  sky  lightened,  and 
they  saw  the  shore  before  them  some  thirty  yards  dis 
tant.  Bradley,  who  knew  the  water  to  be  shallow, 
jumped  overboard.  Dolman,  perceiving  him  wade,  fol 
lowed,  in  a  plunge  to  the  waist. 

"Come  on,  Max!  its  only  three  feet,  and  a  sandy 
bottom,"  shouted  Bradley. 

"Deuce  take  the  soundings!  lam  subject  to  cramp. 
Find  the  painter  and  pull  me  in,  and  I'll  share  the 
salvage." 

"The  chain's  padlocked  ashore — Gopd-bye." 

"Here's  Dolman's  teapot:  I  invoke  the  heathen,  as 
he  reveres  his  lares,  to  return  I" 

"George,  let's  try  to  pull  the  old  tub  in." 

"  Reason  triumphant  at  last  over  madness  an  d  folly. 
It  always  is — fti  novels.  No  Shallott  business  to 
night!" 

There  was  a  shanty  at  the  landing,  with  a  rude  fire 
place  and  plenty  of  drift-wood,  but  matches  and 
fowling-pieces  were  alike  wet,  so  they  walked  to  the 
nearest  house,  about  a  mile  distant,  to  the  unmusical 
flapping  of  their  soaked  and  stiffening  garments. 
Nor  was  their  trouble  ended  here,  for  the  family,  a 
laborer's,  was  absent,  and  the  only  vestige  of  fire  was 
a  solitary  coal  which  they  disentombed  in  much  sifting 
from  the  ashes.  It  was  a  promise  of  flame,  but  an 
illusory  one.  They  blew  it  again  and  again,  around 
the  hearth,  to  the  tantalizing  verge  of  ignition,  but 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME.  233 

when  they  ceased  to  puft,  the  dull  glow  retreated 
toward  the  core  in  a  very  coquettish  manner.  Thus 
foiled,  they  trudged  another  mile  to  the  farm-house 
where  the  wagon  awaited  them,  shed  their  last  shiver  at 
the  blaze  of  the  kitchen  fire,  and,  fortified  by  a  good 
supper,  drove  to  Brentlands. 


20* 


234 


THE  HOKTONS;   OB 


CHAPTBE   XXVIII. 


In  the  morning  he  rose  with  new  hope,  in  the  evening  applauded  hJfc 
own  diligence,  and  in  the  night  slept  sound  after  his  fatigue.  He  met 
a  thousand  amusements  which  beguiled  his  labour,  and  diversified  hia 
thoughts.  He  discerned  the  various  instincts  of  animals  and  proper 
ties  of  plants,  and  found  the  place  replete  with  wonders. — RASSELAS. 

HE  large  cultivator  never  hybernates. 
The  first  two  months  of  the  year  are 
his  period  of  preparation  for  the 
vernal  activity.  As  the  true  farmer 
leads  his  work,  and  aims  not  so  much 
at  extent  of  cultivation  as  quality, 
being  ambitious  of  a  progressive  in 
crease  of  the  products  of  his  land,  he 
gets  in  timely  readiness  the  imple 
ments  and  appliances  of  a  thorough 
tillage.  He  knows  that  to  deserve  a  large  crop  from  his 
field,  he  must  generously  manure  it — plough,  harrow, 
and  roll  it  well.  In  no  pursuit  is  system  more  impor 
tant  than  in  agriculture.  The  dullest  tiller  perceives 
and  perverts  this  truth  when  he  -obstinately  refuses  to 
depart  from  the  traditions  and  practice  of  his  ances 
tors,  scoffing  at  the  lights  of  science  as  mere  will  o'  the 
wisps. 

The  January  and  February  work  at  Brentlands  was 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   H01O!.  235 

various,  and  its  supervision  imparted  to  Bradley  the 
zest  of  a  novel  employment,  which  exacted  healthy 
exertion  of  mind  and  body.  Early  on  the  nipping 
winter  mornings  he  would  repair  to  the  hillside  woods 
with  his  gang  of  choppers.  A  sufficient  space  was 
.soon  scooped  out  of  the  snow,  and  a  brisk  fire  built  to 
warm  his  unexercised  blood — that  of  his  sturdy  axe 
men  getting  its  caloric  from  the  swinging  of  their 
tools.  How  cheerily  rang  the  strokes  across  the 
frozen  landscape,  while  the  chips  flew  from  the  widen 
ing  notch,  or  the  iron  wedge  was  driven  slow  along 
the  resisting  fibres!  It  was  lighter  work  with  the  wind- 
fallen  limbs,  which  had  laid  long  a  seasoning.  Some 
of  these  were  gone  far  toward  mould,  to  feed  those 
children .  of  the  wood,  the  ferns  and  mosses.  There 
was  hidden  treasure  in  the  decay;  the  fragrance  of  the 
arbutus,  the  scarlet  of  the  pimpernel,  and  other  "fairest 
flowers,"  worthy  to  have  sweetened  the  "sad  grave"  of 
Fidele.  Perhaps  such  a  sapless  log,  half  buried  in  the 
soil,  would  be  the  mansion  of  a  tortoise,  or  the  dor 
mitory  of  a  luckless  family  of  snakes.  Then  the  slow 
oxen,  their  chests  frosted  with  their  breath,  drew  the 
logs  to  the  wagon  road,  in  awkward  turnings  to  clear 
the  stumps,  while  the  drivers  shouted,  and  a  con 
vocation  of  critical  crows  screamed  tantalizing  allusions 
from  the  distant  tree-tops,  and  mocking  echoes  of  the 
imperative  "haw — haw  I" 

There  was  field-work  in  the  open  spells  of  winter — 
ploughing  in  the  drier,  loamy  soil,  and  drain-making 
in  a  piece  of  stiff  clay,  preparatory  to  its  being  broken 
up.  Bradley  sunk  his  drains  below  the  reach  of  plant 


236  THE   HOKTOXS;    OR 

roots  and  the  sub-soil  level,  knowing  that  with  a  good 
tilth  and  favoring  heavens  his  future  wheat  and  clover 
would  not  lack  food.  And  there  was  work  when 
storms  beat  through  the  dark  days,  in  shed  and  shop — 
fashioning  and  boring  fence-posts,  making  gates,  mend 
ing  and  oiling  harness,  putting  implements  in  order, 
and  baling  hay.  The  meat-house  and  garden  frames 
demanded  a  share  of  attention.  An  important  part  of 
the  superintendence  at  this  season  was  that  directed  to 
the  care  of  the  stock — the  apportionment  of  the  messes, 
whether  dry  or  succulent,  the  cleaning,  bedding,  and 
exercising  of  the  cattle.  The  effects  of  diet  were  to  be 
watched,  and  ailments  doctored.  Idle  currycombs 
wedged  aside,  masses  of  stunped,  fermenting  dung  in 
the  stallways,  and  waste  from  rack  and  mess-box,  were 
held  to  be  undesirable  at  Brentlands. 

March  came  like  a  bland  guest  bound  to  a  banquet. 
On  the  twelfth  of  the  month  the  red  spurs  of  the  rose 
were  unfolding  to  leaves,  and  Bradley  turned  the  first 
spadeful  in  his  garden.  A  few  bright,  warm  days  fol 
lowed,  like  a  mellow  slice  of  later  May,  and  were  sand 
wiched  between  frosty  edges.  An  ample  border  facing 
the  south  was  prepared,  and  appropriate  seed  put  in; 
and  pulse  and  radishes  were  planted.  As  Bradley 
placed  the  hardy  legumes,  he  recollected  how  a  crew 
of  bold  British  voyagers,  wrecked  in  their  little  seven 
teenth  century  ship  on  the  strand  of  Baffins  Bay,  were 
rescued  by  the  green  sprouts  of  a  handful  of  peas,  which 
they  had  sown  in  that  unfruitful  soil,  from  slow  suffering 
and  death  by  scurvy.  He  took  upon  himself  a  proxy- 
ship  of  gratitude  for  Neptune,  and  covered  them  nightly 


AMERICAN"   LIFE    AT  HOME.  237 

in  their  bed  with  forkings  of  straw.  It  was  pleasant, 
ruminating  labor  to  cut  the  dead  wood  from  the  garden 
fruit  trees,  and  trim  the  useless  canes  from  the  berry 
bushes — to  dig  in  an  apt  compost  at  their  roots,  or  to 
spread  the  strawberry  spaces  with  tan.  The  delved 
earth  gave  its  tribute  of  incense,  for  company  there  was 
the  westering  sun,  and  a  stray  bee  furnished  the  music. 

It  is  a  breeze! ess  morning,  and  they  are  sowing 
cloverseed.  The  wheat  is  a  little  winter- killed,  and  it 
is  intended,  after  sowing  the  grass-seed,  to  run  a  light 
harrow  upon  and  roll  it,  to  promote  tillering.  Bradley 
and  a  farmer-neighbor  are  together  in  the  field,  and  a 
curious  fox,  squat,  is  a  safe  space  oft'  observing  them. 
The  farmer  picks  up  an  arrowhead. 

"This  saved  pretty  considerable  farm-work  and 
tradin'  round  in  the  old  times,"  he  said. 

"It  tells  as  full  a  history,  where  there  was  little  to  be 
told,  as  the  Pyramids,  or  the  buried  coins  of  Greece," 
remarked  Bradley. 

"It  belonged  to  the  natives.  They  was  strange 
critters.  Didn't  do  much  tailoring  and  wasn'{  liable  to 
dyspepsy,  I  reckon.  Somehow,  when  I  get  to  think 
ing,  I  like  to  moralize  on  such  subjects;  they  make 
common  things  look  like  vanities." 

"Yonder  sits  one  of  the  natives." 

"Rot  the  pesky  fox!  I've  lost  two  turkies  this 
spring  by  them  varmints.  There's  nateral  simplicity 
with  lamb's  wool  in  its  teeth !  If  I  had  a  gun  I  should 
stipelate  for  some  of  that  innocence." 

To  ensure  a  future  supply  of  the  best  fence-posts,  a 
plantation  of  the  yellow  locust  was  made.  Two  acres 


238  THE  HORTONS;   OR 

were  appropriated  to  it.  The  saplings,  two  years  old 
from  the  seed,  were  taken  from  the  nursery  drills  and 
placed  twelve  feet  apart  each  way.  These  were  in 
fifteen  years  more  to  become  timber.  Birds  would 
sing  and  nest  in  their  branches,  and  their  tressed  blos 
soms  sweeten  succeeding  Mays.  Lovers  might  haunt 
them,  and  tender  whispers  undersigh  the  breeze. 
Satiated  passion,  or  meek  penitence  might  be  familiar 
with  their  dim  evening  paths.  In  their  noontide  shade 
Truth  might  bless  some  votary  with  a  happier  inspira 
tion  than  that  which  sanctified  the  grove  at  old  Dodona. 
Tom  Hance  was  the  herdsman.  •  He  was  loosely  put 
together,  and  long  drawn  out.  It  might  have  been  a 
disordered  liver,  but  Tom  Hance  was  a  dismal  man. 
In  the  very  relish  of  his  eating,  an  undertaker  could 
have  borrowed  funereal  graces  from  his  face — trans 
formed  into  elegy,  he  would  have  served  a  generation 
of  decedents.  Tom,  under  much  provocation,  displayed 
little  weaknesses  of  temper  that  required  rebuke,  such 
as  persuading  perverse  cattle  with  pitchforks.  Other 
wise  he  was  not  a  bad-natured  fellow.  Yet  he  had  but 
a  single  associate  and  friend,  a  mule;  and  a  more 
vicious  mule,  perhaps,  never  moved  hoof  in  a  Mexican 
pack-train.  It  was  the  practice  of  this  diabolical  quad 
ruped  to  make  for  every  one  else  who  entered  the  field, 
and,  taking  his  chance,  plant  himself  for  the  assault, 
which  was  accomplished  in  one  movement,  beyond  the 
evolutions  of  military  manuals,  by  dipping  the  head 
and  sending  up  the  hind  heels,  with  unexpected  celerity. 
A  belief  prevailed  among  the  hands  that  the  creature 
was  possessed.  If  they  laid  their  clothes  within  his 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME.  239 

reach  he  "would  tear  them,  and  they  never  ventured 
near  him  Avithout  a  supply  of  stones. 

Some  of  the  cattle  were  breachy,  and  when  alone 
might  not  be  restrained  by  the  stoutest  worm-fence. 
As  the  corn  land  surrounded  the  pasture,  it  was  neces 
sary  to  overlook  them  all  the  time.  Wherever  Tom 
was,  and  however,  standing,  walking,  or  recumbent, 
Badger  was  close  by.  If  Tom,  with  his  back  against  a 
fence-stake',  smoked  his  pipe  and  watched  the  fleecy 
fragments  of  scud  in  the  blue  sky,  Badger  might  be 
seen  a  few  yards  distant,  still  and  grave,  regarding  him 
with  an  almost  human  interest.  Of  all  our  domestic 
animals,  the  mule  loves  best  to  tumble  and  roll,  and 
Badger  was  clumsily  sportive  in  this  habit;  but  he 
would  break  off  instantly  if  Tom  moved,  and  follow 
him.  The  brute  would  stoop  his  muzzle  over  the  man 
and  fondle  his  face  or  outstretched  hand.  He  would 
accompany  Tom  to  meals,  leaping  fences  in  the  way, 
and  meekly — as  if  conscious  of  the  trespass,  and  crav 
ing  sufferance — wait  for  him  at  the  kitchen  door.  In 
deed,  a  marked  amelioration  became  apparent  in  the 
animal's  entire  character.  He  would  probably  have 
kicked  an  unsuspecting  person  still,  but  rather  in  a 
spirit  of  demonstrative  familiarity  than  of  wanton 
malice.  Having  thus  mollified  his  companion,  Tom 
took  a  fever,  and  left  the  farm.  The  forsaken  brute 
fell  into  a  melancholy — then  into  a  moroseness — and 
finally  relapsed  into  a  misanthropic  ferocity.  But 
Tom  Hance  made  very  clear  that  there  was  some 
goodness  even  in  Badger. 

This  chapter  is  not  an  essay  on  agriculture.     Yet  if 


240  THE  HORTONS;    OB 

it  were  it  need  not  be  jejune.  No  doubt  that  noble 
science  will  sometime  be  made  entertaining  reading  for 
lazing  July  weather,  on  the  lawn  beneath  the  syca 
mores.  Perhaps  there  is  a  modern  muse  for  the 
analysis  of  soils  and  the  qualities  of  pasturage.  Alas! 
our  American  Maecenas  is  always  busy  in  contriv 
ing  to  be  President.  Cowper  has  sung  the  cucum 
ber  in  its  eventful  history  from  the  stable-heap  to  the 
table.  Like  as  not,  the  next  Theocritus  will  be  the 
inventor  of  a  steam  plough.  Modern  amateur  farmers 
may  stride  monthly  over  more  space  of  knowledge 
than  stretches  from  the  Mantuan  to  old  Jethro  Tull; 
though  hypothesis  outstrip  demonstration  in  the  maga 
zines  and  manuals.  Better  this  than  the  dulness  which 
disparages  methods  it  cannot  disprove.  Better  Lite- 
printz,  dibbling,  in  a  flush  of  complacency — better 
Eavensduck  wondering,  in  a  sailor's  husky  accents,  at 
the  refusal  of  his  pistillate  strawberries,  as  he  reads  his 
lesson  from  the  "Country  Gentleman,"  than  Farmer 
Crustover,  whose  tool-shed,  where  the  chickens  roost, 
is  a  museum  of  original  models,  who  cherishes  fond 
memories  of  the  sickle,  disbelieves  in  "garden  sarse," 
goes  to  meeting  on  a  blind-bridled,  rat-tailed  mare, 
perpetuates  gaunt  and  ugly  swine,  ploughs  three 
inches  deep,  and  despises  "book-farming."  We,  for 
our  parts,  are  simply  visitors  at  Brentlands,  this  April 
morning;  not  at  all  disposed  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  the 
husbandman  who  tills  it;  and  who,  we  hope,  will 
be  so  judicious — we  venture  to  believe  it  after  that 
excellent  claret — as  to  keep  his  chemistry  for  his  crops. 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT   HOME.  241 

Yonder  peach  orchard  in  blossom  woos  us,  as  it  does 
the  orioles. 

It  is  a  smoky  day  with  a  south-east  wind,  and  the 
golden  young  leaves  of  the  maples  sadden  for  a  brighter 
sun.  Bradley  is  devoting  an  hour  or  two,  stolen  from 
the  farm,  to  his  borders.  The  floral  department's 
narrow — some  roses  and  other  shrubbery  to  prune  and 
tie,  some  old-fashioned  herbaceous  perennials,  and  a 
few  vines  to  train.  Here  elegance  and  taste  are  over 
ruled  by  utility.  Nor  is  there  time  to  know  the  charms 
that  make  attractive  the  pursuit  of  a  new  seedling. 
These  good  things  are  for  rich  and  dignified  leisure. 
They  are  its  privileges — among  the  minor  blessings  it 
can  bestow.  Sun  and  shower  in  the  Brentlands  garden 
promote  humbler  uses — are  not  woven  into  gay  blooms, 
but  the  homespun  of  beans,  onions,  and  lettuce,  and 
sage  for  the  Michaelmas  goose.  There  are  some  choice 
melon  seed  in  these  hills,  under  the  glazed  boxes,  said 
to  be  the  true  Armenian  cantaleup.  If  Pomona  is  pro 
pitious,  the  cool  green  flesh  of  the  fruit  will  melt  grate 
fully  in  the  mouth  in  August,  when  Sirius  forsakes  the 
night.  Set  near  different  plants  of  the  same  genus  the 
fruit  would  hybridize.  There  is  little  rest  for  the  soil, 
and  little  chance  for  the  weeds.  The  watering-pot  is 
sometimes  needed  even  in  this  showery  month,  now  on 
the  verge  of  May.  The  strawberries,  especially,  are 
great  drinkers.  The  cistern  is  a  sunken  cask,  near 
where  that  cat,  wakened  awhile  ago  from  its  nap  on  a 
heap  of  litter  by  the  note  of  a  bird,  is  rubbing  its  nose 
along  the  stem  of  a  shrub. 

Whoever  voyaging  home  from  a  sojourn  in  the  tro- 
21 


242  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

pics  has  beheld  the  cornfields  in  June,  which  line  either 
of  those  goodly  bays,  the  Chesapeake  or  Delaware, 
without  rare  enjoyment,  ought  not  to  undertake  a  sen 
timental  journey.  Against  the  monotonous  grey  of 
the  sea,  still  the  background  of  sense,  their  verdure  is 
deepened — after  the  barren  turbulence  of  ocean,  ap 
pears  the  calmly  vigorous  life  of  earth.  A  human 
interest  too,  belongs  to  them,  which  the  sea  never 
originates.  Man  has  no  fee  in  it,  more  than  in  the 
caprices  of  an  untamed  tiger — it  is  a  treacherous  ene 
my,  whom  he  can  only  foil  by  circumspection.  Though 
a  less  ardent,  the  traveller  here  discerns  a  more  liberal 
nature  than  that  of  the  clime  which  he  has  left,  where 
languid  breezes  shake  the  orange  and  banana,  or  torna 
does  shatter  them.  More  liberal,  because,  still  grace 
ful  in  its  bounty,  its  types  are  those  by  which  men 
strengthen  in  muscle  and  in  mind. 

Yes;  contemplating  from  this  knoll  the  outspread 
uplands,  which  fastidious  May  regards  just  now  with  a 
vixenly  frown,  we  conclude,  in  the  spirit  of  Captain 
John  Smith's  description  of  Virginia,  "Heaven  and 
earth  never  agreed  better  to  frame  a  place  for  man's 
habitation."  There  is  a  deal  of  work  afoot;  ploughs 
going  all  around,  and  the  wagons  of  laggard  farmers 
laden  with  drenched  and  dried  manure  from  the  slop 
ing  barnyards.  The  Brentlands  men  are  striking  out 
their  last  corn  field.  This  is  the  final  plough  work 
upon  it;  the  tillage  will  hereafter  be  prosecuted  with 
hoes  and  cultivators,  the  latter  to  be  constantly  run 
until  the  crop  is  laid  by.  The  field  is  fifty  acres  in 
extent,  and  in  it  the  crows  find  room  to  forage.  Proba- 


AMERICAN- LIFE   AT   HOME.  243 

bly  but  a  small  replanting  will  be  necessary,  for  the 
frosts  of  winter  have  purged  the  upturned  furrow  slices 
of  the  cut- worm.  There  will  be  no  weeds — why  should 
there  be  in  any  arable  laud,  when  cultivation  will  keep 
them  down? 

But  the  neighborhood  industry  is  not  all  devoted  to 
corn-planting.  It  is  Mr.  Potteril  in  the  buggy,  followed 
by  his  man,  Simon  Horseradish,  with  a  wagon  load  of 
veal  for  the  landing,  who  is  at  the  gate  before  us.  The 
load,  indeed,  consists  of  two  calves  hardly  in  a  condi 
tion  for  epicures,  but,  with  Horseradish,  who  is  some 
thing  plumper,  the  lank  old  horses  seem  to  think  it  is 
sufficient.  Mr.  Potteril  is  of  New  Paradise.  So  his 
great  grandfather  named  the  estate  which  he  inherits. 
It  was  fat  land  once,  and  it  has  fed  several  generations 
of  easy-going  Potteril s.  There  is  poorer  gnawing  now 
upon  its  emaciated  vitals.  The  buried  Potterils — the 
family  motto  is  admonitory,  "In  the  midst  of  life  we 
are  in  death" — were  mostly  fond  of  field  sports,  and  left 
the  farming  to  their  overseers.  The  present  representa 
tive  is  a  more  quiet  man,  whose  hobby  is  "perpetual 
motion."  He  has  been  twenty  years  perfecting  a 
mechanism  which  is  to  astonish  the  world,  and  which 
contains  at  present  about  a  barrel-full  of  small  wheels. 
He  gets  them  cast  to  order,  and  the  calves  help  to  pay 
for  them.  Horseradish,  who  is  Mr.  Potteril's  factotum, 
entertains  a  great  respect  for  the  "invention,"  and  tells 
exultingly  how  it  has  puzzled  the  lawyers. 

When  a  prize  was  promised  the  discoverer  of  a  bane 
for  the  peach-tree  borers,  Mr.  Potteril  determined  to 
compete  for  it.  It  would  probably  have  gone  hard 


244  THE    HOETONS;    OR 

with  the  worms  could  he  have  gone  on  compounding, 
for  he  was  daily  adding  to  a  collection  of  the  most  fetid 
materials  in  nature.  But  just  before  the  crisis  of  pro 
jection,  Mrs.  Potteril,  in  a  fit  of  nausea  and  impatience, 
cast  the  preparations  to  the  dogs,  and  sternly  protested 
against  any  further  essays. 

There  is  plenty  of  land  at  New  Paradise,  chiefly  old 
fields  out  of  heart.  Their  principal  product  is  a  strag 
gling  growth  of  sassafras,  though  there  is  no  lack  of 
sheep-sorrel.  A  curious  antiquarian  may  yet  find 
traces  of  the  division  fences.  The  log  stables  lean  so, 
of  late,  the  rats  have  grown  wary.  As  to  the  barns — • 
the  Potterils  were  not  a  barn-building  family.  The 
present  Mr.  Potteril  can  make  a  great  deal  of  a  decrepit 
horse.  He  prefers  decrepit  horses,  and  can  get  them 
cheap.  He  has  a  theory,  that  when  the  lower  teeth  of 
the  equine  quadruped  are  ground  away  in  natural  use, 
drawing  a  few  of  the  longest  of  the-  upper  teeth  will 
equalize  the  situation.  Fortunately,  there  is  not  much 
heavy  hauling  at  New  Paradise.  The  belief  of  Mr, 
Potteril  is  that  lime  sours  land,  and  that  guano  burns 
it;  so  he  reserves  his  stock  manure  for  his  wheat,  and 
makes  it  go  a  great  way.  The  other  crops  draw  most 
of  their  sustenance  from  the  atmosphere,  and  the  air  of 
New  Paradise  has  long  been  famous.  The  Potteril 
wheat  stacks  are  neither  numerous  nor  corpulent,  an 
absence  of  conditions  favorable  to  speedy  threshing. 
There  is  a  single  dark  looking  heap,  which  at  con 
jecturing  distance  is  the  fodder  of  pulse  or  buckwheat, 
but  which  Horseradish  will  tell  you  is  hay,  and  he  is 
an  authentic  witness,  having  tedded  it  in  the  lot  after 


AMERICA^   LIFE   AT   HOME.  245 

three  storms.  Such  as  it  is,  it  infects  the  Potteril  cattle 
with  a  chronic  discontent  at  their  winter  provender  of 
corn  stalks  and  oat  straw.  Bran  mashes  are  accounted 
medicine  at  New  Paradise.  There  are  some  sheep, 
which  gather  their  tallow  off  the  old  swards.  The 
cows  pasture  much  in  the  woods,  where  they  regale  the 
flies  and  mosquitos,  and  their  milk  acquires  a  fine 
huckleberry  flavor.  The  young  Horseradishes  loiter 
on  their  tra^k  of  summer  afternoons,  guided  by  sound 
of  bell,  and  drive  them  home  in  the  twilight  at  a 
gallop. 

Simon  Horseradish,  as  has  been  observed,  sees  to 
things  generally,  and  pays  much  attention  to  the 
changes  of  the  moon,  each  of  which  is  favorable  to 
certain  labors.  He  was  once  so  rash  as  to  make  a  fence 
in  the  wrong  quarter  of  that  luminary,  and  it  was 
blown  down  by  the  first  strong  wind.  There  was  a 
tract  of  ship  timber,  quite  valuable,  but  Mr.  Potteril 
stood  for  his  price,  until  a  change  of  wind  when  there 
was  burning  brush,  and  Simon  was  away  to  consult  the 
almanac,  set  it  afire  and  destroyed  it.  However,  there 
will  be  a  growth  of  pine  to  substitute  it,  for  the  next  of 
the  family.  Simon  often  recreates  himself  at  the  vil 
lage,  where  he  discusses  with  his  cronies  the  Potteril 
prospects,  and  brags  of  the  past.  Especially  has  he 
much  to  narrate  of  Colonel  Tom  Potteril,  and  hia 
racers,  and  the  stakes  they  took  in  their  day,  till  Dick 
Iloskins,  the  jockey,  broke  his  neck;  when  Colonel 
Tom  gratefully  buried  him  beneath  a  marble  slab,  upon 
which  was  inscribed  his  equestrian  virtues,  the  whole 
tagged  with  some  latin  verses  by  the  parson,  who  alsp 
21* 


246  THE   HORTONS;      OB 

planted  a  tree  at  the  glebe  to  commemorate  him — you 
may  see  it  any  day  towering  on  Hawk's-nest  Hill. 
Toward  midnight,  on  these  occasions,  Simon  will  suffer 
no  one  to  question  the  prodigious  feats  he  relates  of 
"Harry cane,"  as  he  insists  on  calling  Colonel  Tom's 
favorite  horse.  The  bones  of  Hurricane,  nicely  scraped, 
are  preserved  in  a  glass  case  at  New  Paradise. 

Mr.  Potteril  talks  of  declaring  himself  a  candidate  for 
Congress.  He  is  staunch  in  his  politics,  which  are  not 
of  the  movement  school.  He  decries  all  innovation, 
which  he  imputes  to  "the  infidel  spirit  of  the  age,"  and 
is  ready  with  illustrative  instances  from  the  history  of 
the  great  French  Eevolution.  Danton  is  his  favorite 
horror.  Simon  Horseradish  aspires  to  be  constable, 
and  is  about  to  ride  the  canvass.  Meanwhile,  the  grass 
will  nod  approvingly  through  the  long,  bright,  breezy 
days  to  rusty  ploughs  stuck  in  unfinished  furrows,  and 
the  young  Horseradishes  will  gather  blackberries,  and 
poison  themselves  with  sumach  in  the  corn  middles  at 
New  Paradise. 

The  only  son  and  heir  of  the  house  of  Potteril,  Slo- 
goe — Mrs.  Potteril  was  a  Slogoe,  of  the  elder  branch, 
and  a  niece  of  Governor  Slogoe,  of  St.  Huberts — went 
into  the  army,  and  is  expected  some  time  to  make  a 
great  strategic  movement. 

But  while  we  are  gossiping,  the  dinner-horn  sounds, 
the  dogs  howl,  and  a  boy  rides  in  from  the  village  with 
yesterday's  mail.  The  busy  life  of  Brentlands  will 
grow  busier  henceforth  until  the  harvest. — The  farmer, 
indeed,  should  bear  a  grateful  heart.  Disappointment 
rarely  brings  to  him  the  suffering  it  allots  to  other  men. 


AMEKICANLLIFE   AT   HOME.  247 

His  bread,  at  least  remains.  The  ground  on  which  he 
stands  passes  not  from  under  him,  if  there  be  no  gripe 
of  debt  upon  it.  Another  year,  the  Hand  may  be  less 
sparing — another  year,  a  choral  strain  of  thanks  to  the 
Supreme  Beneficence,  who  "ministereth  seed  to  the 
sower,"  may  rise  from  all  the  laud  for  the  bounty  of  His 
harvest. 

"  Borne  on  Thy  breath,  the  lap  of  spring 

Was  heaped  with  many  a  blooming  flower; 
And  smiling  summer  joyed  to  bring 

The  sunshine  and  the  gentle  shower; 
And  autumn's  rich  luxuriance  now, 

The  ripening  seed,  the  bursting  shell, 
The  golden  sheaf  and  laden  bough, 

The  fullness  of  thy  bounty  tell. 

And  here  shall  rise  our  song  to  Thee, 

Where  lengthened  vale  and  pastures  lie, 
And  streams  go  singing  wild  and  free, 

Beneath  a  blue  and  smiling  sky : 
Where  ne'er  was  rear'd  a  mortal  throne, 

Where  crowned  oppressors  never  trod, 
Here  at  the  throne  of  Heaven  alone, 

Shall  man  in  reverence  bow  to  God  I" 


248 


THE  HORTONS;   OB 


CHAPTBE   XXIX. 

She  listened  with  a  flitting  blush; 

With  downcast  eyes,  and  modest  grace; 
And  she  forgave  me,  that  I  gazed 

Too  fondly  on  her  face ! 

GENE  VIE  VE. 

HE  most  emphatic  language  of  Love 
is  without  words.  It  is  spoken  from 
the  eye,  and  is  lambent  eloquence  in 
the  repose  of  the  mouth.  By  it  re 
proach  is  transmuted  to  pathos.  It 
came  forth  from  Eden,  a  remainder 
of  its  first  felicity.  It  has  arbitrary 
symbols,  insignificant  to  the  general 
eye — familiar  things  sanctified  by  a 
touch — the  faded  petals  of  a  rose,  a 
withered  sprig  of  lavender,  the  strawberry  stains  on 
that  handkerchief,  laid  by  in  a  drawer,  years — ah!  she 
knows  how  many  years  ago.  Bradley  Horton  and 
Lydia  Bardleigh  are  silently  communing  in  the  shade 
of  the  willows,  beside  a  creek  which,  after  winding 
through  meadows  at  The  Cedars,  crosses  the  country 
road  under  a  small  stone  bridge. 

The  road  is  above  them,  but  it  is  a  quiet  by-road  lit 
tle  travelled,  and  they  are  so  low  and  so  close  to  the 
side  of  the  bridge  that  they  are  out  of  sight.  Nobody 


AMERICAN.. LIFE   AT   HOME.  249 

has  passed  in  a  half  hour  but  a  frocked  farmer's  boy 
riding  bare-back  a  plough  horse  on  some  errand  to  the 
village  store.  She  is  seated  on  the  bole  of  a  willow 
which  runs  a  comfortable  distance  parallel  with  the 
ground  before  it  makes  its  upright  growth.  He  re 
clines,  resting  upon  his  arm,  and  gazes  in  her  face. 
The  water  glides  by  them  with  a  soothing  murmur  into 
the  deep  pool  it  has  worn  at  the  bridge,  the  lair  per 
haps  of  a  gorged  pike,  for  the  insects  dart  undisturbed 
on  its  surface,  fretting  it  into  puny  ripples.  The  fine 
red  rootlets  of  the  willows  reach  everywhere  from  the 
water-washed  bank  into  the  stream,  and  fluctuate  with 
its  flow  like  ten  thousand  living  feelers.  The  hospita 
ble  trees  nave  harbored  ruder  guests  of  late,  if  a  broken 
tobacco  pipe  and  a  veteran  jack-of-clubs  are  testimony. 
These  betoken  the  Sunday  recreation  of  the  quarry- 
men.  Strange  rural  sound,  there  rises,  by  spells,  the 
shrill  music  of  a  fife.  Yonder  is  a  clump  of  trees  on  a 
knoll,  with  gray  rocks  bulging  among  them,  from  which 
the  breeze  seems  to  bear  the  notes.  Perhaps  an  idle 
youngster  stretched  on  the  mould  at  his  practice. 

"  That  grove,  Bradley,  would  be  a  nice  place  for  a 
pic-nic." 

"Excellent — or  to  sonnetize  in  after  Petrarch.  'The 
air  nimbly  and  sweetly  doth  recommend  itself.'  And 
a  fine  .draught  there  is  under  this  bridge.  What  a 
comfort  to  be  a  fish  such  hot  weather." 

"What  sort  offish — a  gudgeon?" 

"Old  Sylvanus  never  listened  to  a  more  patriotic 
pipe,"  and  Bradley  whistled  in  accompaniment,  "  Yan 
kee  Doodle." 


250  THE   HORTONS;   OR 

"I  wonder,  Bradley,  you  don't  like  the  woods.  To 
walk  in  them  is  one  of  my  choice  pleasures." 

"Well,  the  ladies  are  privileged  to  be  romantic." 

"Pshaw!  it's  not  sentimentalism,  but  sensibility." 

"Then  you  are  not  afraid  of  poison  vines,  ticks,  and 
snakes — Did  you  ever  tread  on  a  snake?" 

"Do  you  question  my  humanity?" 

"I've  seen  a  young  lady  of  the  finest  sentiments 
jump  clean  out  of  her  raptures  by  such  a  misstep." 

"That  was  a  great  while  ago,  I  suppose,  when 
women  read  less  philosophy  than  they  do  now,  and 
more  fiction?" 

"  O  artifice,  thy  name  is  woman !  It  was  a  long  while 
since.  There  now,  it  won't  pout  ?" 

"  As  if  I  care,  Sir  Tease.  I'm  only  surprised  that, 
with  your  marvellous  perception,  you  should  con 
descend  to  look  at  a  lady  jump  at  all." 

"  Siire,  one  may  gaze  at  a  perturbation  of  Venus." 

There  was  some  minutes  of  silence,  during  which 
Bradley  musingly  watched  the  plunge  of  the  pebbles 
which  he  threw  into  the  stream. 

"  Lydia,  could  you  be  a  recluse  ?" 

*No :  religious  meditation,  I  believe,  would  not  satisfy 
me.  It  is  meant  to  sanctify  religious  work,  and  when 
unaccompanied  by  performance,  it  weakens  the  char 
acter,  and  lays  the  heart  open  to  temptation.  Faith 
must  be  sustained  by  charity ;  and  charity — the  charity 
of  the  Apostle  to  the  Corinthians — requires  the  world 
for  its  full  exercise — it  is  the  Christian's  part  and 
privilege  to  be  in  the  world  without  being  of  it." 

Another  pause. 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  251 

"  What  progress  does  the  young  housekeeper,  our 
Annie,  make,  love?" 

"O,  she  will  need  a  full  year  yet  of  schooling.  I 
cannot  leave  her  with  father  before  she  is  capable — I 
owe  him  that,  even  at  your  expense,  dear  heart  I" 

"Heigho!  I  wish  I  could  shorten  the  year.  Why 
can't  housekeepers  be  made,  as  French  is  taught  now-a- 
days,  in  twenty  lessons?" 

"  I  suppose  they  can — and  will  be  equal  to  the 
French?" 

"  Well,  I  dare  not  fret  in  the  presence  of  such  charm 
ing  patience." 

"  So  may  it  continue  to  charm  you,  I  shall  pray." 

"I  think  if  I  could  cling  to  it  it  would  bear  me  into 
Heaven !" 

She  only  replied  by  tenderly  taking  his  hand. 

Bradley,  looking  towards  the  knoll,  exclaimed, 
"  There  goes  the  music." 

"  It's  young  Blount,"  said  Lydia. 

"The  quaker's  son?" 

"  Yes." 

"Preparing  for  the  army,  I  suppose.  Well,  a 
soldier's  .heart  has  beat  beneath  the  drab  before  now. 
Nay ;  Mars  and  brave  George  Fox — who  was  quite  as 
imperious  in  his  way  as  the  helmeted  son  of  Jove — 
have  had  wrestling  bouts  for  a  whole  family ;  as  that 
of  Barclay.  The  god  got  a  colonel  for  Gustavus  Adol- 
phus,  and  a  field-marshal  for  the  czar — the  quaker 
took  the  famous  apologist,  and  won  back  the  colonel." 

"  Would  it  not  be  an  odd  world  all  quakers  ?" 

"  A  queerish.     Suppose  Philadelphia  should  be  over- 


252  THE    HORTONS;    OR 

whelmed,  as  was  Pompeii,  and  after  the  same  period  of 
burial  be  exhumed,  a  quaker  street  being  first  exposed, 
what  would  the  philosophers  say  ?" 

"What  would  they?"  asked  Lydia,  laughing. 

"To  begin,  that  here  was  a  people  who  had  no  fine 
arts,  no  musical  instruments,  architectural  ornamenta 
tion,  pictures,  nor  statuary.  With  little  fancy,  it  would 
be  argued,  and  with  poverty  of  imagination,  they  were 
probably  without  poetry.  Clearly,  they  were  not  war 
like,  for  there  is  no  example  of  the  rudest  weapon ;  and 
they  were  doubtless  ignorant  of  gunpowder.  They  were 
great  travellers,  for  their  libraries  consisted  chiefly  of 
journeys  "and  journals.  Their  costume,  emphatic  as 
toga  or  turban,  constituted  an  era  in  the  history  of 
clothes.  No  evidence  of  a  drama  is  to  be  found  in 
their  printed  books.  Their  cooking  utensils  are  too 
numerous  and  complete  to  sanction  a  supposition  that 
they  were  used  by  ascetics.  They  seem  to  have  put 
their  trust  in  real  estate,  and  to  have  laid  up  their 
treasure  in  title-deeds  and  mortgages — the  parchment 
being  all  made  out  of  a  famous  pair  of  leather 
breeches." 

"  What  an  aggregate !" 

"You  dispute,  then,  my  dead-reckoning?" 

"I  believe  Quakerism  to  have  been  one  of  God's 
best  gifts  to  the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  as  it  was  an  irre 
pressible  declaration  for  civil  and  religious  liberty 
when  sorely  needed — an  unfaltering  protest  against 
violence,  licentiousness,  and  the  tyranny  of  dead 
forms.  And  they  surely  are  established  in  the  Gos 
pel  of  our  blessed  Lord  in  their  testimony  against 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  253 

War.  When  the  incarnate  and  complete  Goodness 
was  repulsed  by  the  villagers,  and  his  disciples  asked 
him  if  they  should  invoke  fire  from  heaven,  as  did 
Elias,  upon  them,  the  conclusive  reply  was,  'Ye  know 
not  what  spirit  ye  are  of:  and  they  went  to  an 
other  village.  How,  then,  with  this  example  in  view, 
can  a  Christian  justify  the  accomplishment  of  partial 
good  by  violence?"  said  Lydia. 

"It  is  allowable,  they  tell  us,  to  an  aggregation  of 
Christians — a  State.  They  are  willing  to  be  damned 
as  a  prince,  if  they  can  only  be  saved  as  an  arch 
bishop." 

"How  many  precious  ministers  of  Jesus  Christ  do 
err  in  this  matter!"  said  Lydia. 

"My  ancestors  weretof  the  faith  a  century  and  a  half 
ago,  when  there  was  more  meat  in  the  shell  of  Quaker 
ism,  and  I  respect  the  traditions.  We  need,  here  and 
now,  the  protesting  spirit  of  these  ancients.  Our  na 
tional  lust  of  gold  is  ripe,  in  a  harvest  of  mercenary 
priests,  overreaching  tradesmen,  corrupt  judges,  and 
legislatures  which  are  bought.  Arrogance,  injustice, 
and  dissension  are  begot  in  the  land.  Be  very  sure, 
our  stripes  will  not  c.ome  from  a  scourge  of  small  cords. 
So  much  for  the  preaching  strain,  to  which  you  have 
brought  me,  you  dear  little  sermonizer!'  said  Bradley. 

There  had  been  a  shower,  and  there  was  a  rainbow 
in  the  sky.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  they  sat 
in  the  portico  contemplating  the  beautiful  birth  "of 
vapor  and  the  sun."  If  you  can  ever  feel  the  pulses  of 
Nature  throb  from  her  strong  and  bountiful  heart,  it  is 
22 


254  THE   HORTOXS;    OB 

in  the  country  after  a  summer  shower.  Freshness  is  in 
every  nerve — the  earth  is  attuned  to  her  primal  vigor 
— she  is  young  again,  and  a  bride — she  rejoices,  and 
the  splendor  in  the  sky  is  a  fit  symbol  for  her  psalrn! 
What  Uncle  Steve  Trencher's  thoughts  were,  as  he 
came  toward  the  house  dangling  some  woodcock,  can 
not  be  told.  He  said,  indeed,  after  a  sententiously 
civil  greeting,  that  it  had  been  "a  myste  afternoon — • 
that's  solemn."  Uncle  Steve  was  as  damp  as  the  mea 
dows  where  he  had  drudged  for  his  game,  the  soil  of 
which  the  rain  had  not  wholly  washed  from  his  cow- 
skin  boots.  He  carried  "Proclermation"  reversed,  its 
merciless  muzzle  in  advance  of  him.  The  dogs  recog 
nized  and  came  up  to  him,  eliciting  from  him  pithy 
scraps  of  kennel  wisdom.  « 

"Fine  birds,  Uncle  Steve — very  fine  birds." 

"Yes,  Judge;  they've  got  the  right  kind  of  bills." 

"Any  news  your  way,  Uncle  Steve?" 

".Wai,  none  to  speak  on.  Josh  Rambo,  the  store 
keeper,  has  got  his  daughter  Keziah  a  pianer;  and 
Gabriel  Wamblebee  is  lying  at  the  pint  of  death,  with 
gastretus  the  doctors  say,  though  some  folks  do  call  it 
too  much  apple-jack — but  I  never  knowed  that  in 
moderation  to  hurt  /any  man,  and  it  stands  to  reason 
the  doctors  knows  best.  Marm  Fougeroy  told  me  they 
give  him  a  ball  of  quicksilver,  and  said,  if  it  went 
through  him  lively  he  might  get  well,  but  if  it  didn't 
void  there  was  no  hope." 

"He's  advanced  in  years?" 

"Nigh  on  to  seventy,  I  reckon,  which  looks  as  if 
he'd  pisoned  himself  very  gradual.  One  thing  I've 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT   HOME.  255 

noticed,  most  of  these  pesky  people  who  turn  up  their 
eyes  at  their  fellow-creatures  for  taking  a  little  sperits 
when  ailin'  or  overdone  like,  is  always  a  groaning  over_ 
their  dyspepsy  or  liver  complaint.  They're  unthankful 
critters  that  don't  know  the  vally  of  their  blessings. — I 
calc'late  we'll  have  a  sickly  fall  in  these  parts,  for  I  see 
the  crows  on  the  graveyard  wall  every  time  I  pass,  and 
my  old  woman  is  troubled  with  a  dreadful  ringing  in 
her  ears." 

"Are  these  signs,  Uncle  Steve?" 

"So  people  said  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  they  was  a 
heap  more  observing  than  folks  now-a-days. — I've 
come,  Judge,  in  part,  to  get  your  advice,  which  I 
always  set  by." 

"  Thank  you — I  hope  you  don't  overvalue  it." 

"My  old  woman's  brother,  who  lived  in  the  city,  has 
died  and  left  her  a  legacy  of  four  hundred  dollars ;  and 
we've  got  to  go  and  see  about  it.  I  never  was  there, 
and  don't  like  the  idee  of  riding  in  the  cars — but  life  is 
uncertain,  and  we  must  take  it,  I  spose,  as  it  comes. 
The  old  woman  means  to  get  a  pair  of  new  spectacles, 
and  some  notions,  and  we  don't  know  rightly  what  to 
do  with  the  rest  of  the  money.  I  won't  hear  to  the 
Slumptown  bank.  If  the  choice  laid  between  that  and 
a  hollow  gum,  I'd  vote  for  the  tree." 

"Couldn't  you  buy  three  or  four  acres  of  your 
neighbor,  to  add  to  your  lot?" 

"  Crimp  would  want  double  its  vally,  and  I'd  sooner 
give  to  the  bank  than  him.  He  has  killed,  off  and  on, 
six  of  my  chickens,  and  shot  at  the  pigs,  but  missed. 
He  don't  keep  no  sort  of  fences." 


256  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

"I  can  place  the  money  on  interest,  and  get  you  a 
good  mortgage  to  secure  it." 

"I'm  a  thousand  times  obleeged;  that  would  just 
suit." 

"You  can  have  the  interest  twice  a  year  or  yearly, 
as  you  please. — When  you  go  to  the  city  look  out  for 
the  rascals,  for  its  a  naughty  place.  Keep  tight  hold 
of  your  money,  or  they  will  bring  you  down  as  sure  as 
'Proclermation'  will  a  woodcock." 

"  Aint  there  constables?" 

"Yes;  but  they  don't  always  catch  the  rogues." 

"I've  heern  tell,  too,  it's  a  passin'  place  for  fires;  but 
I  shant  stay  more'n  one  night." 

Happy  glimpses  of  a  promised  land  were  these  visits 
of  Bradley  to  The  Cedars.  The  landscape  laughed  in 
tune  with  the  gaiety  of  his  heart,  and  the  birds  war 
bled  on  a  perfect  chord.  If  such  a  succession  of 
domestic  joys  should  be  his!  There  would  be  no 
temptation  then  to  wander.  Cmtra  and  Naples  would 
woo  in  vain.  We  will  dream,  in  blankets  made  of 
Northern  fleece,  of  Mediterraneans  laving  shores, 

"  Where  the  sun  with  a  golden  mouth  can  blow- 
Blue  bubbles  of  grapes  down  a  vineyard  row." 

The  Northern  home  where  cultivated  goodness  reigns, 
with  cattle-dotted  fields,  and  groves,  whose  only  orange 
tint  is  autumn's  gift,  outspread  around  it — though  its 
windows  often  frame  a  low  and  sullen  sky,  and  its 
dooryard  trees  are  leafless  in  the  winter  blast,  shall  be 
our  Eden  still  1 


AMERICAN- LIFE  AT   HOME.  257 

He  watched  the  household  employments — Tier  hands 
crowned  them  with  grace.  Perhaps  he  was  a  spooled 
and  stupid  fellow,  but  if  so,  he  was  too  irrational  to 
know  it,  and  it  made  little  difference.  Something  of 
Amphion's  touch,  which  marshalled  the  Theban  stones, 
was  in  this  country  house  music.  Pray,  how  much 
better  employed  were  the  pastoral  youth  with  their 
oaten  pipes  than  he?  For  the  time,  he  was  the  good' 
natured  man.  Even  Annie's  pet  crow,  a  bird  with  a 
propensity  to  larceny,  failed  to  vex  him  when  it  con 
cealed  the  candle  ends  under  the  collar  of  his  coat,  and 
abstracted  his  loose  property  before  his  eyes.  He  was 
fascinated  in  the  companionship  of  a  delicate  and 
kindly  nature.  And  it  is  suitableness  for  companion 
ship  in  a  woman,  which  most  charms  a  sensible  man; 
to  produce  which,  cultivation  of  heart,  and  some  culti 
vation,  at  least,  of  intellect,  are  necessary.  It  is  the 
wretched  small-talk  of  wives  of  unimproved  minds 
which  populates  the  tavern  and  the  club.  Such  women 
may  be  notable  for  their  housekeeping  thrift — able  to 
save  a  threepence  in  a  pudding,  and  to  higgle  the 
butcher  out  of  the  odd  ounce  of  steak.  While  economy 
is  a  minor  virtue,  and  tidiness  is  an  essential  to  which 
the  goddesses  are  not  superior,  your  very  managing 
woman  is  usually  an  unpleasant  female.  She  may  be 
ranked,  with  an  ample  interval,  next  above  her  sour- 
tempered  and  prickly  sister  whose  perpetual  and  petty 
malice  makes  her  the  meanest  of  earthly  annoyances. 
And  it  is  not  that  false  cultivation  which  begets  wishes 
for  political  equality  with  man  which  is  desirable  in 
the  milder  sex.  All  such  is  simply  unprofitable  road- 
22* 


258  THE  HOETONS;   OB 

making  into  dream-land.  There  are  foolish  human 
females  who  would  rid  themselves  of  all  gentle  affec 
tions  and  situations  to  gratify  a  self-conceit  which 
spurns  at  the  divine  will  in  the  creation.  Except  to 
dolts  and  demagogues,  Miranda  herself  howling  she- 
politics  upon  the  rostrum  would  be  as  disgusting  as 
Caliban.  When  conjoined  with  the  Christian  virtues, 
it  is  home-culture  which  fits  a  woman  to  be  her  hus 
band's  helpmeet,  and  the  almoner  of  angels  to  him. 


AMEKICAN-  LIFE   AT  HOME. 


259 


CHAPTEE    XXX. 

The  porch  of  this  temple  is  exceeding  glorious,  and  the  gate  of  it  ia 
called  Beautiful. — EIOHARD  BAXTER. 

HE  cabin  had  but  one  window,  which 
was  without  glass,  and  was  closed 
by  a  sliding  shutter.  There  were 
crevices  enough  in  the  walls,  how 
ever,  to  admit  a  feeble  light,  and  in 
pleasant  weather  the  door  could  be 
left  open.  Such  was  the  habitation 
given  in  charity  to  Dinah,  an  old 
negress,  who  now  lay  upon  her  death 
bed — a  sack  of  straw  on  the  floor, 
with  a  coarse  sheet  and  some  scanty  covering.  Lydia 
Bardleigh,  seated  on  a  stool  beside  the  bed,  was  read 
ing  from  a  Methodist  hymn-book. 

"Thank  the  good  Master  1  I  can  read  my  title  clear, 
Miss." 

After  a  little  while  she  added, 

"I  must  soon  leave  you,  Honey;  but  all  your  kind. 
ness  to  the  old  woman  has  gone  to  heaven,  and  when 
the  Lord's  angels  bring  you,  you  will  find  it  there." 

"  My  poor  old  friend,  let  me  bathe  your  back  again 
with  the  liniment,"  said  Lydia. 


260  THE  HORTONS;    OR 

"Taint  hardly  worth,  while,  Honey;  the  stage  is 
nearly  here!" 

"I  like  to  do  it,  Aunt  Dinah." 

The  lovely  woman  bared  the  emaciated  shoulders 
and  side  of  the  old  negress. 

"  The  jelly  and  chicken  you  fetched  the  old  woman 
looks  mighty  nice,  and  too  quality  like,  but  it  'pears  I 
isn't  got  an  appetite  equal  to  them — my  ambition's 
most  clar  gone.  But  I  ^hink,  my  dear  missis,  if  I  had 
a  sweet  potatoe,  I  could  eat  it." 

"When  I  go  home,  Aunt  Dinah,  I  will  send  it  at 
once." 

"Many  thanks,  missis!  The  Lord  is  very  good  to 
me." 

At  this  time  the  neighboring  clergyman  entered  the 
hovel.  He  was  a  youngish  man,  very  nice  in  his  attire 
and  precise  in  his  manners.  He  saluted  Lydia  with 
marked  courtesy,  and  after  a  few  rather  idle  observa 
tions  on  passing  events,  turned  to  the  sick  bed,  and 
prayed  with  a  cold  but  correct  emphasis. 

"I  can't  make  nothing  out  of  that  gospel,  missis," 
said  the  old  woman  when  the  young  man  had  retired ; 
"'pears  to  me  it  wasn't  preached  to  the  poor.  It 
buzzed  in  my  ears,  and  didn't  go  with  the  life  to  my 
heart.  But  I  hear  the  angels  singing  now!" 

After  a  short  pause  she  cried  in  ecstacy, 

"  Hallelujah  I    Glory  to  God !" 

Lydia  perceived  that  she  was  departing. 

"My  dear  young  missis,  are  you  feared  of  death?" 

"  No,  Aunt  Dinah." 

"  Then  you,  and  me,  and  Jesus,  is  enough  I" 


AMERICAN.. LIFE   AT   HOME.  261 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  she  fell  into  a  doze,  from 
which  she  awaked  exclaiming, 

"I  shall  see  my  baby  once  more!" 

Directly  she  cried  exultingly,  "I  AM  A  KING'S  DAUGH 
TER  1"  and  her  spirit  ascended  from  her, 


262 


THE  HOKTONS;   OR 


CHAPTEK   XXXI. 

Oh,  Men,  with  Sisters  dear! 
Oh,  Men,  with  Mothers  and  Wives! 
It  is  not  linen  you're  wearing  out, 
But  humau  creatures'  lives ! 

THOMAS  HOOD. 

j  T  was  another  year.  The  cherry  blossoms 
were  drifting  into  the  chamber  window 
of  Jane  Warner  at  Lokesbur  school,  and 
the  birds  were  quietly  busy  in  elm  and 
willow  at  their  annual  architecture.  A 
drowsy  hum  of  recitation  came  from  the 
class-rooms — a  hive-like  monotone,  varied 
by  the  tinkle  of  a  teacher's  bell.  The 
occupant  of  the  chamber  was  hastening 
in  preparation  for  a  journey.  She  had 
just  been  summoned  by  a  pressing  message  to  the  sick 
bed  of  her  mother,  and  while  she  packed  her  apparel 
with  womanly  neatness  still,  sobbed  her  apprehension. 
Then,  aloud,  she  prayed  God  to  avert  a  fatal  issue — If 
it  please  thee,  O  merciful  Father,  for  poor  Frank's 
sake! 

Jane  reached  home  in  time  to  receive  her  mother's 
blessing,  and  close  her  eyes;  and  that  was  all.  The 
funeral  was  plain  and  inexpensive,  but  the  grief  was 


AMERICAN_LIFE  AT   HOME.  263 

real.  The  bereaved  children  beside  the  open  grave 
moved  to  tenderness  every  bosom.  Frank  was  not 
there.  Be  lay  at  home  sick  and  sorrowful,  thinking 
of  the  past.  The  hands  that  had  smoothed  his  pillow 
were  beneath  the  clay ;  the  tongue  which  had  cheered 
his  despondency  was  hushed  forever  here — but  there 
is  God's  heaven  of  angels,  O  suffering  little  brother, 
and  that  and  thy  mother  are  with  thee  still! 

The  week  after  the  funeral  was  one  of  family  rest 
and  affectionate  intercourse,  subdued  in  tone,  and  sanc 
tified  by  the  common  affliction.  There  were  no  enmi 
ties  to  be  forgotten,  or  wrongs  to  alienate;  and  the 
injunction  of  the  departed  parent,  "Love  one  another  1" 
was,  in  all  its  solemn  significance,  the  household  law. 
The  solicitude  felt  for  Frank  was  constantly  manifested 
in  words  and  acts  of  kindness  that  lightened  somewhat 
the  heaviness  of  his  heart.  The  time  seemed  chastened, 
and  life  went  on  purged  of  its  tumult  and  vexations. 
Then  the  days  were  passed,  and  the  cares  of  the  world 
pressed  forward  for  recognition.  To  earn  money  was  a 
necessity  stronger  than  the  contemplative  dominion  of 
grief.  The  family  must  part.  An  aunt,  it  was  ascer 
tained,  would  take  Frank,  on  his  sister's  promise  to 
support  him.  The  small  sum  to  be  got  by  the  sale  of 
the  furniture  it  was  agreed  should  be  devoted  to  his 
wants.  A  bitterness  of  sorrow  measured  the  love  in 
the  daughter's  heart  as  she  folded  each  familiar  gar 
ment  of  her  mother's  wardrobe.  The  day  of  sale  came ; 
and  then  the  household  separated — "  Only  for  three  or 
four  short  years,  sis,"  said  one  of  the  boys,  "when  we 


264  THE   HORTONS;   OB 

shall  be  together  again,  well-off  and  happy ;  and  Frank 
shall  have  a  cab  sometimes  for  an  airing." 

Jane  returned  altered  to  her  desk  at  Lokesbur  school. 
The 'buoyancy  of  spirits  and  alacrity  which  she  had 
possessed  and  displayed  were  no  longer  hers;  a  fatal 
istic  lack  of  personal  interest  in  the  future,  which  took 
from  the  present  its  purpose  and  energy,  had  succeeded 
to  them.  The  two  maiden  sisters  who  presided  over 
the  select  establishment  of  Lokesbur — at  the  sere  and 
yellow  of  womanhood,  the  latter  a  bilious  gamboge — 
were  unimpeachably  respectable  and  imposingly  right 
eous.  They  had  an  orthodoxy  of  their  own,  these 
worthy  ladies,  knew  what  was  correct  socially,  and 
solemnly  believed  the  outside  world  to  be  a  disagreea 
ble  and'discontentejd  assemblage  of  red  republicans  and 
shoemakers.  They  knelt  on  well-dusted  devotional 
hassocks  at  church,  and  read  the  responses  with  un 
hesitating  precision  out  of  Oxford  prayer-books,  extra 
gilt.  Unquestionably  the  Misses  Trimley  knew  what 
was  proper  and  pious.  They,  therefore,  regarded 
the  melancholy  into  which  Jane  Warner  was  fallen, 
after  the  first  fortnight,  with  severe  disapprobation. 

Her  sadness  demanded  gentle  attentions — some  com 
miserating  nature  to  relax  it — and  the  Misses  Trimley 
were  too  strict  to  be  sympathetic.  Without  omitting 
the  duties  of  her  situation,  she  performed  them  in  a 
spiritless  and  mechanical  manner.  This,  with  the  good 
sisters,  was  downright  murmuring  against  Providence. 
They  added  to  her  burden  looks  and  expressions 
decorously  reproachful.  How  eagerly,  when  completed 
tasks  allowed,  did  she  seek  her  solitary  chamber!  Nor 


AMERICAN  JLIFE   AT   HOME.  265 

yet  solitary,  for  it  was  the  scene  of  invisible  solace  to 
this  woman  with  her  heart-scald — of  a  life  higher  than 
the  wonted,  as  the  better  world  of  shadows  outreaches 
the  world  of  substance.  How  impatient  in  her  ill-in 
formed  impulses  was  she  to  mingle  with  it ! 

The  time  at  last  came  when  such  obduracy  could  be 
no  longer  countenanced  by  the  ladies  of  Lokesbur. 
One  evening,  after  prayers,  they  summoned  to  their 
presence  the  delinquent  teacher.  With  some  pertinent 
reflections  on  the  wickedness  of  a  complaining  deport 
ment,  in  a  select  establishment,  they  announced  to  her 
their  purpose  to  dispense  with  her  services.  The  salary 
due  to  her  was  paid  the  following  day,  and  she  de 
parted. 

She  took  quiet  and  humble  lodgings  in  the  city, 
where  she  could  prepare  her  food  and  live  at  small 
expense.  This  done,  she  went  to  Frank.  Old  preju 
dices,  clung  to  with  the  obstinacy  of  ignorance  and 
age,  had  indisposed  her  aunt  to  cordial  relations  with 
her.  There  was  also  in  Miss  Cluskey  some  leaven  of 
that  envious  antipathy  with  which  uninformed  persons, 
though  otherwise  worthy,  are  apt  to  regard  their  better 
instructed  family  connections.  Jane's  visits  to  her 
aunt,  therefore,  had  been  rare. 

As  her  niece's  situation  became  apparent  to  the 
spinster,  the  spirit  of  selfishness  waxed  strong  within 
her.  To  the  prospect  of  losing  the  stipend  she  had 
received  on  account  of  Frank,  was  added  a  probable 
appeal  for  aid  by  his  unemployed  sister.  And  Jane 
had  wilfully  abandoned  her  place;  for  she  preferred  no 
complaint  against  the  Misses  Trimley.  The  spinster 
23 


266  THE    HOETuNS;    OK 

would  not  refer  this  silence  to  a  generosity  which  she 
could  not  understand.  Indeed,  had  she  known  of  her 
niece's  unhappiness,  she  would  have  esteemed  it  as 
nothing  but  perversity,  or  the  vapors  of  a  woman. 
While  her  indignation  mounted,  she  hit  upon  an  ex 
planation  of  Jane's  conduct — incipient  insanity.  Miss 
Cluskey  was  of  a  saving  temper,  and  kept  no  cats. 

Having  made  this  diagnosis  of  her  niece's  case,  it  was 
perhaps  illogical  in  Miss  Cluskey  to  censure  her  as  an 
offender.  But  pure  reason  is  not  the  forte  of  an  in 
censed  woman,  with  whom,  when  argument  fails,  there 
is  always  a  refuge  in  crimination. 

"Well,  miss,  I  suppose  your  fortune's  made,  since 
you  have  contrived  to  part  with  your  situation." 

"What  do  you  mean,  aunt?" 

"  Just  this ;  that  people  can't  live  without  money  or 
occupation,  and  as  you  don't  seem  to  care  for  the  last, 
you  should  have  enough  of  the  first,  either  in  hand  or 
prospect." 

"You  are  unkind  to  say  that  I  don't  want  employ 
ment — I  was  never  idle  through  indolence." 

"  It's  as  bad  if  people  don't  try  to  please,  and  put  on 
airs.  Beggars  can't  be  princesses,  and  boarding-school 
teachers  mustn't  think  themselves  full-blown  ladies." 

"If  you  mean,  aunt,"  replied  Jane,  nettled  by  this 
tirade  of  reproach,  "that  I  have  aimed  at  habits  and 
indulgences  which  my  means  will  not  warrant,  or  de 
ported  myself  toward  any  one  with  affected  grandeur, 
you  accuse  me  falsely:  if  you  only  mean  that  I  have 
known  how  to  respect  myself,  you  are  right." 

"Hoity-toity!  so  I  lie.    You  think  yourself  a  pretty 


AMERICAN  JJFE  AT  HOME.  207 

diamond,  I  don't  doubt.  I  believe  you're  a  little  crazy, 
but  that  don't  mend  the  matter.  I'm  sorry  for  that  sick 
child." 

"You  may  make  yourself  easy  about  Frank,  aunt, 
for  the  present.  I  have  some  money,  and  I  shall  try 
to  earn  my  own  expenses  by  sewing  until  I  get  a  place. 
I  shall  pay  you,  as  heretofore,  while  I  can." 

"Well,  miss,  I  hope  fair  words  will  continue  to 
butter  parsnips.  You  can  come  see  your  brother,  of 
course,  when  you  please;  but  after  what  has  passed  I 
don't  think  it's  necessary  you  should  see  me.  Young 
people  nowadays  don't  respect  age — bears  wouldn't 
make  'em.  I  dare  say  I'm  a  deal  too  common  for  your 
society — not  to  speak  of  my  want  of  veracity — and  I 
shall  keep  away  from  it  when  you  call,  if  it  is  my  own 
house,  being  a  meeting-going  woman  and  a  peace 
maker,"  and  with  an  odd  jumble  of  assumed  meekness 
and  spiteful  pretension  in  her  accent  and  carriage,  Miss 
Cluskey  took  herself  offj  satisfied  that,  whatever  else 
might  result,  she  had  shut  up  every  avenue  by  which 
her  niece  could  approach  her  for  assistance,  on  the  ex 
haustion  of  a  slender  purse. 

When  the  door  had  closed  behind  the  flouting 
spinster,  the  sick  boy  broke  a  momentary  silence  with 
a  deep  sigh  of  relief. 

"I  wish  aunt  had  more  self-control,  sis.  It  is  very 
wrong  and  trying,  though  she's  mostly  good  to  me." 

"Never  mind,  Frank;  I  won't  let  it  trouble  me. 
You  can't  think  ill  of  me,  I'm  sure." 

"If  I  could,  dear  sister,  I  would  be  a  wretch." 

"Then  let  it  pass.     Always,  Frank,  treat  your  aunt 


2G8  THE   HORTONS;    OB 

with  respect ;  it  is  your  duty,  and  will  be  to  your  ad 
vantage.  We  are  all  frail,  and  must  allow  for  each 
other." 

"It  will  be  hard  to  hear  you  talked  against,  and 
don't  think  I  can  without  speaking." 

"Be  guarded,  my  dear!  To  know  you  were  un 
happy,  would  make  me  so." 

"I  sometimes  get  discontented,  sis;  then  I  think 
mother — I  think  I  see  her  smiling  upon  me,  and  I  cry, 
and  grow  very  calm." 

Jane  sat  by  her  brother,  holding  his  hand,  while 
earnest,  patient  eyes  looked  into  her  own,  where  con 
strained  cheerfulness  contended  with  starting  tears. 

"  I  have  brought  you  a  new  book  of  tales,  Frank." 

"Thank  you,  sis;  thank  you  very  much." 

"  And  something  you  will  like  better — a  parcel  of 
figs." 

"No,  I  like  the  book  better;  it  lasts  longer,"  replied 
the  lad,  laughingly.  "But  I  don't  care  for  all  books 
of  tales  alike.  I  would  rather  follow  the  fortunes  of 
the  poor,  and  find  them  at  last  comfortable  and  happy, 
than  read  of  the  most  splendid  victories  of  kings  and 
soldiers — even  the  adventures  of  Bruce  and  Wallace. 
As  a  good  missionary  who  came  here  once,  Father 
Tryon,  said  of  his  acquaintance — when  they  get  rich  I 
generally  give  them  up.  That  was  the  reason,  I  sup 
pose,  he  wore  such  a  shabby  coat." 

"The  robe  of  Christ,  my  dear,  is  ever  new.  You 
don't  let  the  spiders  spin  along  your  bookshelf,  Frank." 

"No,  indeed.  It's  a  nice  little  library — isn't  it? 
Those  three  books  at  the  left  are  the  first  real  books  I 


AMERICAN- UFE   AT   HOME.  269 

ever  owned,  except  a  testament — of  course  I  don't 
count  nursery  stories.  'The  Glory  of  America/  father 
gave  me  when  I  had  pleurisy — was  getting  well  of  it,  I 
mean.  I  liked  Mad  Anthony  Wayne,  but  thought  I 
would  rather  be  Decatur  or  Lawrence,  and  live  on  the 
ocean." 

"You  would  rather  be,  I  guess,  a  nautilus  on  a 
summer  sea." 

"What's  that  chap  know  of  life?— There's  my  'Pil 
grim's  Progress,'  pages  of  which  I  know  by  heart. 
And  that  is  'Robinson  Crusoe,'  which  set  me  drawing 
and  peopling  islands,  and  building  cities,  and  inventing 
governments.  Heigho!  old  as  I  am,  I  draw  them  in 
my  head  sometimes  now.  I  was  making  a  navy  for 
one  the  other  day,  in  a  sort  of  reverie,  and  listening  the 
while  to  'Pop  goes  the  weasel'  from  an  organ  in  the 
street,  when  a  monkey  stole  in  at  the  window  and 
poked  his  red  cap  in  my  face,"  and  a  twinkle  of  merri 
ment  played  about  the  youngster's  mouth. 

Considering  the  temper  of  her  aunt,  Jane  deemed 
infrequent  visiting  of  her  brother  best  for  his  comfort. 
She  left  at  regular  periods  the  sum  agreed  upon  for  his 
board,  assiduously  sought  employment  for  herself,  and 
pinched  on  bread  and  butter  and  tea,  with  an  occasional 
morsel  from  the  butcher.  She  sought  employment,  and 
only  sometimes  got  it — coarse  shirt-making;  the  wages 
of  which  helped  to  supply  her  scanty  allowance  for 
food  and  shelter.  '  But  she  had  not  been  trained  to  the 
use  of  the  needle,  and  was  a  slow  sewer.  There  was  a 
dearth  of  rough  seamstress  work,  and  a  competitive 
strife  for  it.  Once  or  twice,  when  she  attempted  finer 
23* 


270  THE   HORTONS;   OR 

garments,  she  was  rudely  rebuked  for  botching  them, 
and  refused  compensation.  Spring  passed  away,  and 
summer  came,  with  a  mockery  for  her  of  leaves  and 
sunshine. 

As  time  wore  on,  the  stitching  vigils  for  bread,  and 
the  fearful  uncertainty  which  harassed  her  spirits, 
showed  more  and  more  ghastly  in  her  face  and  wasted 
body.  Her  attempts  at  cheerfulness  when  with  Frank 
were  unsuccessful,  and  -the  visits — made  shorter  now 
— brought  to  the  boy  anxiety  and  grief.  Strange 
thoughts  began  to  possess  her,  and  inklings  of  new  and 
dread  temptations.  She  had  lost  her  way  of  life,  and 
the  longer  she  wandered  the  more  she  must  go  astray. 
Human  happiness,  after  all,  was  in  nowise,  as  she  had 
thought  it  to  be,  dependent  upon  human  will.  Indi 
vidual  misery  was  an  inevitable  evil.  There  was  a 
grave  for  all — and  a  sleep.  Yet  she  still  believed  in 
the  goodness  of  the  Almighty,  with  a  fervorless  con 
viction,  as  in  the  essence  of  an  inaccessible  Being. 
She  could  not  curse  God,  but  she  could  die!  She  could 
die  out  of  the  seething  and  selfish  crowd  for  the 
pittance  which  would  not  furnish  her  a  meal. 

On  her  return  from  a  clothing  store  with  a  parcel  of 
work,  the  fruit  of  several  solicitations,  Jane  Warner 
one  gusty  evening  in  Joine  stopped  beneath  an  awning 
for  shelter  from  the  rain.  The  vehemence  of  the  storm 
had  subsided  to  fitful  showers  from  some  broken  rear 
ward  clouds,  that  were  slowly  following  the  mass  of 
lightning-riven  blackness  which  overhung  the  east, 
and  which  was  still  resonant  with  rapid  peals  of 
receding  thunder.  The  gas-lights  flickered  on  the 


AMERICAN-.  LIFE   AT  HOME.  271 

plashy  crossings,  along  which  damp  and  detained  way 
farers  picked  their  homeward  course,  or  avoided,  with 
surly  expressions  of  resentment,  the  spattering  onset 
of  a  cab.  As  she  stood  before  a  shop  window  and 
contemplated  the  procession  of  umbrella-bearing  pas 
sers-by,  she  was  suddenly  conscious  that  an  earnest 
gaze,  partly  shrouded  by  the  slouch  of  the  hat,  was 
directed  at  her.  Turning  her  head  to  meet  the  look, 
she  observed  that  while  it  was  steady  it  was  not  dis 
respectful,  and  concluding  that  the  person  from  whom 
it  came  had  some  motive  for  delay  besides  imper 
tinence,  she  averted  her  face  and  turned  to  another 
train  of  thought.  Presently,  reminded  by  the  striking 
clocks  of  the  lapse  of  time,  she  hurried  onward  in  the 
rain. 

In  her  speed,  she  slipped  at  a  smooth  grating  in  the 
pavement  and  fell  heavily  upon  her  outstretched  hand, 
dropping  the  parcel  which  she  carried.  Directly  she 
was  lifted  and  supported  by  a  ready  arm.  The  spot 
was  rather  dark,  but  she  recognized  by  his  dress  the 
person  who  had  shared  with  her  the  shelter  of  the 
awning. 

"  Are  you  hurt,  Miss  Warner — for  I  believe  I  am 
right  in  thus  addressing  you?" 

"A  little  stunned,  sir,  and  my  arm  seems  sprained." 

"I  see  you  don't  know  me." 

"Mr.  Bloker — excuse  me,  I  did  not. 

"Can  you  stand  without  aid?" 

"Very  well,  thank  you." 

Bloker  picked  up  the  bundle  and  his  umbrella 
Spreading  the  latter  above  Jane,  he  said, 


272  THE   HOftTONS;      OR 

"Lean  on  me,  Miss  Warner,  and  permit  me  to  con 
duct  you  safely  home." 

"By  no  means,  sir;  I  am  but  little  hurt." 

"You  are  shaken  by  the  fall,  and  lame  in  that  arm; 
I  should  be  lost  to  all.  civility  to  leave  you.  I  have 
known  your  family  too  long  and  well  to  think  of  it, 
and  it  is  my  duty  to  attend  you, both  as  a  gentleman, 
and,  whatever  you  mav  mistakenly  consider  me,  a 
friend." 

Finding  by  the  positive  tone  of  her  companion  that 
remonstrance  would  be  decorously  unheeded,  Jane  for 
bore  to  urge  it. 

"I  did  not  know  of  your  being  in  the  city — Is  your 
wrist  painful  ?" 

"More  than  at  first." 

"  Let  me  bind  it  with  my  handkerchief — I  will  not 
hurt  you." 

Mastering  by  promptitude  her  indecision,  Bloker 
soon  converted  the  handkerchief  into  a  rude  bandage, 
and  applied  it. 

"  You  will  need  a  doctor,  perhaps.  There  may  be  a 
fracture ;  when  you  are  at  home  we  can  examine." 

At  the  entrance  of  the  street  where  her  lodging  was 
situated,  she  protested  against  his  accompanying  her 
further.  He  courteously  said  that  she  might  be  doing: 

t/  O  O 

herself  injustice,  but  that  he  was  bound  to  respect  her 
desire.  He  insisted,  however,  that  he  should  be  allowed 
to  send  on  the  following  day  to  inquire  concerning 
her ;  and  wishing  her  a  deferential  Good-night,  he  left 
her. 

When  she  was  alone  in  her  room  the  pain  of  the 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT  HOME.  273 

hurt  increased.  Casting  down  her  eyes  she  beheld  the 
handkerchief.  Recollections  of  its  owner  came  to  vex 
her  spirit,  and,  in  a  fit  of  indignation,  she  tore  it  from 
the  limb.  She  poured  water  from  her  pitcher  on  the 
red  and  swollen  part,  and,  relieved  by  the  douche,  was 
swathing  it  with  wet  muslin,  when  the  thought  arose 
in  her  mind — I  cannot  work ! 

That  thought  was  a  terror.  But  a  few  small  coins 
remained  for  her  subsistence.  The  pawnbroker  was 
before  her — beyond  that  she  dare  not  look.  She  had 
been  compelled  to  omit  the  last  payment  for  her  bro 
ther.  Sorrowfully  she  persuaded  herself  that  it  was 
only  an  obligation  postponed;  and  thus  much  she 
meant  to  explain  to  her  aunt,  when  she  could  announce 
that  she  had  obtained  fresh  employment  which  pro 
mised  to  continue.  Stretched  on  a  rack  of  solicitude, 
she  went  to  her  bed,  and  awaited  through  weary  hours 
the  respite  of  oblivion  grudged  to  nature — she  did  not 
weep — alas!  she  did  not  pray. 


274: 


THE   HORTONS:    OB 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

Imogen. — I  have  heard  I  am  a  strumpet,  and  mine  ear, 

Therein  false  struck,  can  take  no  greater  wound 
Nor  tent  to  bottom  that. — CYMBELINE. 


AWAKENED  late  the  following  morn- 
ing  by  the  cries  of  the  hawkers,  Jane 
Warner  arose  and  prepared  a  scanty 
breakfast.  Scarcely  had  she  finished 
it,  when  a  slovenly  girl,  the  child  of 
a  fellow-lodger,  ushered  Bloker  to 
her  chamber. 

"My  dear  Miss  "Warner,  I  could 
not  deny  myself  the  happiness,  being 
on  business  in  the  neighborhood,  of  calling  on  you." 

"  Take  a  seat,  sir,"  said  Jane,  with  constrained  civil 
ity,  while  the  blood  burned  in  her  cheek. 

"I  hope  you  are  better  of  the  injury?"  he  asked, 
with  an  air  of  concern. 
"Decidedly." 

"  Truly  glad — I  thought  you  much  hurt." 
"O,  no." 

"Did  the  handkerchief  help  you?" 
"I  took  it  off." 
"Permit  me,"  he  said  blandly,  advancing  his  chair 


AMERICAN  .LIFE  AT   HOME.  275 

and  reaching  to  her  hand.  "You  must  know,  I  am 
part  of  a  doctor — had  charge  of  a  ship's  medicine  chest 
when  I  was  a  supercargo,  and  set  a  sailor's  leg  once, 
on  a  pinch;  or,  rather,"  he  continued  gaily,  "to  be 
precise,  on  the  forward  hatch.  It  mended  finely — with 
castor  oil." 

His  gaze  shifted  as  he  spoke  from  her  wrist  to  her 
eyes,  while  she  regarded  him  with  forced  composure. 

"  Yet  inflamed.  If  I  might  advise,  keep  it  wet  with 
a  solution  of  sugar  of  lead. — A  hand  for  a  sculptor, 
by  the  goddess  of  beauty!"  and  he  emphasized  the 
compliment  with  a  gentle  pressure  and  an  amatory 
look. 

"Enough,  sir!"  and  she  was  withdrawing  her  hand, 
when  Bloker  exclaimed, 

"I  must  feel  the  flutter  of  that  breast — it  outdoes 
nature!"  and  with  his  disengaged  arm  he  clasped  her 
waist  with  compulsory  ardor. 

With  surprise  and  sudden  anger  she  started  from  his 
embrace  and  fled  to  the  window.  There  she  turned, 
her  bosom  heaving  and  disdain  in  her  kindled  eye, 
and  cried,  "Leave  my  room!" 

"Hear  reason,  my  dear  Miss—" 

"Go!  or  I'll  call  help!" 

Scowling  vindictively  upon  the  incensed  woman, 
Bloker  departed. 

A  week  passed ;  during  which  Jane  was  unable  to 
use  her  needle.  She  thought  to  return  the  tailor's 
work,  but  still  hoped  to  complete  a  part  of  it  by  stitch 
ing  till  the  midnight  chimes.  Dime  by  dime,  her  purse 
was  emptying.  At  length,  she  took  back  the  unfinished 


276  THE    HORTONS;    OR 

work.  With  misgiving  she  approached  the  counter  of 
the  great  slop-shop,  and  presented  her  excuses.  A 
foreman  snatched  from  her  the  patterns,  with  an  oath, 
and  bid  her  begone.  A  score  of  women  were  standing 
by — sewers  like  herself.  Some  echoed  the  man's  de 
preciations,  others  laughed,  and  two  or  three  seemed  to 
sympathize  with  her. 

On  the  morning  of  his  repulse  by  Jane,  Bloker  vis 
ited  Miss  Cluskey.  He  was  known  to  that  gentle  spin 
ster,  she  having  previously  appealed  to  him  with  some 
success,  of  her  own  motion,  in  behalf  of  Frank.  There 
fore,  when  the  merchant  pulled  the  porcelain  bell-knob 
at  her  portal,  after  reconnoitring  from  the  area,  she 
slapped  the  small  servant  with  the  lid  of  a  saucepan 
for  keeping  her  "always  in  a  mess  when  gentlemen 
called,"  cast  off  her  apron,  tidied  her  cap,  and  admitted 
him,  with  a  serene  aspect  which  showed  superiority  to 
every  carnal  instigation. 

"Why,  Mr.  Bloker,  I  declare!  Walk  in,  sir — who 
would  have  thought  it?  As  I  was  saying  to  our 
Susan — that's  my  help,  sir,  that  I  took  a  bound-girl 
from  the  poor-house  and  send  to  Sunday-school  regular 
— Susan !  I  dreamed  last  night  of  a  thunderstorm, 
which  is  a  sign  that  something  agreeable  will  happen." 

"I  could  wish  my  mission  more  pleasant  than  it  is, 
Miss  Cluskey." 

The  spinster  lapsed  instantly  to  a  state  of  suitable 
melancholy,  and  gave  a  feeble  sigh. 

"Yet  it  is  benevolent." 

"I  am  very  sure  it   is,"   responded   Miss   Cluskey, 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT  HOME.  277 

brightening.    Benevolence,  to  Miss  Cluskey,  was  symp 
tomatic  of  bank  notes. 

"Captain  Warner  was  long  my  respected  friend,  and 
I  owe  something  to  his  memory." 

"The  rich  have  blessed  privileges,"  observed  the 
spinster,  with  anticipatory  promptitude. 

"Duties  may  be  so  called,  madame." 

"That  poor  child,  Frank,  is  completely  forsaken  by 
his  sister.  Ah!  sir,  pride  must  have  a  fall." 

"It  is  of  his  sister  that  I  have  come  to  talk — I  believe 
her  mind  is  diseased." 

"  I  can't  help  it,  sir,  nor  her  either.  She's  been  going 
on  ridiculous  since  her  mother's  death,  as  if  she  felt 
more  than  everybody  else  in  the  world  who  has  losses. 
As  Miss  Trimley  told  her,  it's  a  sinful  repining.  Then 
she  must  lose  her  situation  by  her  conduct!  I  couldn't 
overlook  it  if  I  was  the  robin  red-breast  that  covered 
the  babes  in  the  wood." 

"Last  night  I  found  her  hurt  on  the  street,  where 
'she  had  fallen,  and  attended  her  home.  I  proposed  to 
get  a  physician,  but  she  would  not  allow  me,  and  I 
reluctantly  left  her  in  a  great  deal  of  pain.  This  morn 
ing  I  called  to  learn  her  condition  and  offer  my  ser 
vices,  when  she  exclaimed  violently  against  me  for 
insulting  her,  threw  a  tumbler,  and  threatened  me  with 
an  outcry.  I  saw,  with  sorrow,  her  state,  and  came 
straight  to  perform  this  painful  duty." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  really  can't  say  what's  to  be  done.  She 
has  quit  coming  here.  /  have  no  money  to  spend.  I 
suppose  she  ought  to  be  taken  care  of  by  somebody." 

"I  believe,  Miss  Cluskey,  your  means  are  limited — ' 
24 


278  THE  HORTONS;  OB 

"  You  may  well  say  that,  sir." 

"And  insufficient  to  bear  the  charge  of  properly 
caring  for  your  niece.  Perhaps  the  money  can  be 
elsewhere  supplied.  But  it  would  still  be  necessary  fur 
you,  her  nearest  adult  relative,  to  appear  in  her  bo- 
half." 

"Kegarding  her  state  of  mind?" 

"  Yes.  I  may  be  imposing  on  myself  a  heavy  obli 
gation,  but  her  father  served  me  well,  and  I  will  ven 
ture  it.  I  will  pay  the  expense  of  skilful  nursing — I 
think  it  will  soon  cure  her.  There  is  a  pleasant  and 
secluded  asylum,  of  which  I  know  something,  though 
it  costs  high." 

"I  hardly  see  how  far  I  can  testify — Do  you  think, 
sir,  a  few  weeks  would  restore  her  ?" 

"So  I  hope.  You  will  not  be  rigorously  questioned. 
You  must  state  what  you  know  of  the  particulars  of  her 
melancholy  to  a  physician — there's  the  celebrated  Doc 
tor  Conium,  a  pleasant-tongued  gentleman,  I  can  intro 
duce  to  you — who  will  make  a  personal  examination 
of  the  patiefrt  and  give  a  certificate." 

"  They  treat  the  patients  kind,  I  suppose." 

"Their  treatment  is  altogether  mild  and  considerate, 
madame.  They  have  the  best-tempered  nurses,  music, 
books,  games,  conversation,  and  shady,  spacious 
grounds  for  exercise  and  recreation." 

"I  am  sure  I  am  willing  to  do  all  I  can  for  the  poor 
thing." 

"I  am  thinking  how  we  shall  contrive  an  opportu 
nity  for  the  doctor,  without  duly  exciting  her.  I  have 
itl — send  for  her  here.  Doctor  Conium  can  call,  as  if  by 


AMERICAN"  LIFE  AT  HOME.  279 

chance,  or  for  an  assumed  purpose,  and  converse  with 
her.  An  attendant  can  be  in  an  adjoining  room,  and  a 
coach  in  readiness.  If  the  doctor  should  give  a  certifi 
cate,  it  will  be  easy  for  you  to  persuade  her  to  take  a 
drive.  It  will  save  tumult." 

"  I  shouldn't  like  to  take  such  a  step,  sir,  if  I  didn't 
think  it  for  her  good.  If  it  will  only  cure  her  of  that 
dreadful  downness!  She  isn't  really  fit  for  anything 
now.  •  Yes,  there's  no  doubt  her  mind's  affected." 

"  She  may  need  suitable  clothing,  and  here  is  thirty 
dollars  to  supply  it.  She  will  be  in  the  society  of 
ladies.*  Prompt  action  on  our  part  may  save  her  from 
suicide." 

Doctor  Conium  called  at  the  Cluskey  abode  by  ap 
pointment,  and  Jane  was  inveigled  into  engaging  in  a 
few  minutes  conversation  with  him.  He  was  on  his 
way  to  dinner  after  his  professional  rounds,  and  was  to 
hold  a  college  clinique  at  three;  therefore  he  came 
briskly  around  the  corner  to  his  awaiting  carriage  and 
Bloker. 

"  It's  hardly  pronounced  insanity,"  he  said,  "  though 
the  girl  may  be  a  little  shaken  at  top.  Tried  the 
Shakesperian  test,  and  found  her  gambol  some  from 
the  matter  of  our  talk — it  might,  indeed,  have  been 
natural  confusion — Moody,  eh?  "Would  like  to  look 
further  into  the  case,  but  I  am  overwhelmed,  literally 
obstructed  with  labor.  Her  aunt's  story,  coupled  with 
her  wildness  toward  you — strange  freak  of  expostula 
tion!  I  hope  there  was  no  method  in  it — must  satisfy 
me.  Take  her  to  Norey's?  I  don't  know  much  about 
the  place;  I  nearly  always  send  to  the  regular  institu- 


280  THE    HORTONS;    OR 

tions ;  I  suppose  it's  all  right.  I'll  give  you  the  paper ;" 
and  Conium  wrote  it  on  the  carriage  cushion,  pocketed 
his  fee,  and  drove  away.  In  another  hour  the  doctor 
was  reestablishing  his  energies  with  Madeira,  and  Jane 
Warner  was  in  Norey's  Eetreat. 

Norey  was  a  Scotchman,  with  a  stony  calmness  of 
bearing,  features  that  might  have  been  molten,  so  im 
movable  were  they  in  repose,  and  a  methodic  gracious- 
ness  which  started  in  the  recipient  of  it  a  doubt  of  its 
sincerity.  He  had  been  educated  to  his  business  in  an 
English  asylum  conducted  in  accordance  with  the  old 
mad-house  system,  and  where  a  commitment  was*some- 
times  as  effectual  as  the  Bourbon  lettre  to  restrain  an 
obnoxious  and  constrain  an  unwilling  person.  With 
such  a  training,  he  held  in  little  favor  the  milder 
modern  hospital  administration,  although  he  affected 
to  acquiesce  in  it,  and,  compelled  by  the  prevalence 
of  popular  assent,  in  some  respects  adopted  it.  Though 
the  ancient  privacy  and  profits  no  longer  prevailed, 
separation  from  society  for  the  friendless  or  the  solitary 
was  still  possible ;  there  was  still  gold  to  be  paid  to  a 
discreet  jailer,  unrecognized,  but  tolerated  by  the  law; 
so  a  large  stone  country  mansion,  remote  from  the 
high-road,  was  purchased  and  painted  by  Norey,  dark 
cells  and  shower-baths  introduced,  the  rooms  furnished 
with  double  doors,  the  windows  stoutly  wired,  a  lofty 
wall  of  light-colored,  cheerful  bricks  built  around  the 
grounds,  and  all  together  constituted  the  "Eetreat." 
For,  said  Norey  in  his  adroitly  suggestive  circular 
"Insanity  often,  perhaps  most  frequently,  exhibits 
itself  in  an  aversion  to  the  nearest  relati  ves  and  kind- 


AMERICAN  MFE   AT  HOME.  281 

est  friends;  and  this  should  -  dictate  temporary  seclu 
sion." 

Norey  was  not  originally  a  physician.  He  began 
his  career  as  an  under-keeper — became  a  keeper— an 
apothecary's  assistant — apothecary — attended  a  course 
or  two  of  lectures  at  Edinburg,  and  from  superintend 
ent  rose  to  be  proprietor  of  an  asylum.  His  first  officer 
at  the  Eetreat  was  a  gaunt,  sinewy  Englishman,  blind 
in  one  eye,  who  was  close,  sombre,  and  watchful  with 
the  hard  grey  eye  which  remained,  and  who  professed 
the  faith  Of  a  Covenanter.  Indeed,  his  religion — such 
as  it  was  to  him — was  the  only  topic  upon  which  he 
was  not  habitually  reserved,  inasmuch,  it  seemed,  that 
there  was  unusual  acerbity  and  discomfort  in  it.  He 
was  not,  in  his  silent  grimness,  a  pleasant  man  for  a 
nerve-shaken  patient  to  behold.  The  matron  was  fat 
and  florid,  passably  polite,  and  of  a  positive  fibre — just 
the  kind  of  woman,  in  short,  to  be  reckoned  upon  as 
unconscious  of  irregularities  in  the  management. 

Perhaps  it  was  to  adapt  Jane  to  her  new  situation, 
perhaps  it  was  by  a  suggestion  of  the  humane  Bloke.r, 
that  she  was  aroused  every  half  hour  the  first  three 
nights  to  receive  medicine,  administered  with  uniform 
suavity,  and  was  not  permitted  to  sleep  during  the  day. 
Her  protests  were  disregarded,  and  her  indignation  at 
its  height  answered  in  dumb  show.  Two  stout  women 
were  summoned,  who  led  her  along  a  hall  to  a  window- 
less,  gas-lighted  bath-room  arranged  for  showering,  the 
walls  of  which  were  garnished  with  a  collection  of 
stout  straps. 
24* 


282 


THE   HORTONS;    OB 


CHAPTEE    XXXIII. 

Nay,  you  shall  see  mine  orchard;  where,  in  an  arbor,  we  will  eat  a 
last  year's  pippin  of  my  own  graffing,  with  a  dish  of  carraways,  and  so 
forth. — HENRY  IV. 

ENEY  DAYENPOET  was  as  much 
lost  to  accustomed  uses  as  a  displaced 
brick  or  a  dispossessed  abbot  upon  the 
dissolution  of  the  house  of  Horton. 
As  the  gradual  settlement  of  the  busi 
ness  invested  him  with  more  and  more 
leisure,  time  went  wearily  with  him. 
He  grew  dyspeptic,  took  an  interest  in 
the  adulteration  of  food,  and  was  ob 
served  to  look  truculent  when  he 
passed  the  corner  grocery.  In  extreme  fits  of  indiges 
tion  he  publicly  proclaimed  his  purpose  to  join  a  fire 
company,  or  talked  wildly  of  a  whaling  voyage  for  the 
recovery  of  his  health.  He  procured  a  carpenter's 
chest  of  tools,  and  undertook  the  construction  of  a 
labor-saving  washing  machine  "after  an  original  model 
— crowning  his  yard  fences  in  the  resting  spaces  of 
graver  toil  and  cogitation  with  intricate  paling,  cun 
ningly  devised  for  the  exclusion  of  vagrant  cats 
Finally  he  bought  a  farm. 

It  was  a  small  property  of  forty  acres,  situated  in  tin 


AMEKICAN  -LIFE   AT  HOME. 

Eclair  neighborhood,  and  near  to  Farmer  Gregg's. 
Upon  receiving  the  deed,  the  old  clerk  obtained  a 
bull-dog  of  game  reputation  and  despatched  him  to  his 
rural  purchase.  Next,  he  transmitted  for  the  stocking 
of  his  new  domain  a  coop  of  hens,  which  he  took  on 
the  averment  that  they  were  prime  double-yolked  lay 
ers  of  the  true  capon  breed;  and  a  pair  of  veteran  cab 
horses,  that  had  not  smelt  a  fresh  furrow  since  their 
colthood.  He  got  also,  a  lot  of  seeds  from  an  insolvent 
herb  doctor,  which,  though  they  were  somewhat  old 
and  musty,  were  had  a  bargain.  As  for  agricultural 
implements,  except  those  immediately  necessary,  he 
resolved  to  pick  them  up  as  they  offered  at  country 
vendues.  At  the  time  of  harvest,  with  a  just  sense  of 
his  importance  as,  a  proprietor  of  the  soil,  accompanied 
by  his  mother,  he  went  down  and  entered  on  posses 
sion. 

Thither  Emily  Horton  repaired,  shortly  after  the 
investiture,  to  pass  a  few  days  beneath  the  roof  of  her 
father's  friend.  She  was  soon  at  home  with  his  excel 
lent  housekeeper.  Mrs.  Davenport  was  a  gracious, 
motherly  body,  who  rejoiced  in  occasions  to  comfort 
her  ailing  fellow-creatures  with  the  proper  physic. 
She  wore  spruce  caps  with  inlayings  of  black  ribbon  at 
the  borders,  and  was,  dexterous  with  her  knitting- 
needles.  She  was  not  friendly  to  innovation,  and, 
among  other  singularities,  insisted  on  counting  winter 
to  the  twelfth  of  March  inclusive;  "The  good  old 
style,"  she  observed,  "which  her  mother  kept  before 
her;  and  which  was  altered  by  the  Pope  of  Rome,  and 
she  would  like  to  know  what  business  he  had  to  meddle 


284  THE  HORTOtfS;    OB 

with  it."  Good  Mrs.  Davenport — who  had  already  con 
tracted  a  friendly  alliance  with  Aunt  Becky  Gregg 
through  a  commendation  of  her  butter — had  griev 
ances,  and  rehearsed  them,  ranging  in  the  scale  from 
the  pump  down  to  the  pismires,  and  declared  it  as  her 
well-matured  opinion  that  the  country  would  be  endu 
rable  if  it  were  paved  and  cleared  of  wasps.  Her  son, 
on  the  contrary,  was  constantly  contriving  new  possi 
bilities  of  enjoyment.  He  set  a  weir  in  the  river  and 
visited  it  daily  for  fish,  bringing  sometimes  two  or 
three  perch  with  appropriate  exultation.  He  weeded, 
mulched,  and  trained  in  the  garden,  pursuing  the  plant 
bugs  with  unrelenting  animosity.  He  learned  to  talk 
glibly  of  fallow  and  ley;  took  studies  in  the  anatomy 
of  the  plough;  and  began  to  experiment  on  patches 
with  rival  fertilizers.  He  affected  cattle  medicine,  and 
kept  the  cab-horses  up  to  their  provender  with 
drenches.  By  patient  observation  of  Farmer  Gregg, 
he  mastered  the  mysteries  of  harness.  Not  that  this 
exuberance  of  knowledge  was  acquired  suddenly;  it 
came  to  fructify  like  seasonable  showers. 

Bridget  McFadden  served  the  Davenports  in  the 
capacity  of  woman  of  all  work.  She  was  a  decent 
body  with  warm  sympathies,  who  strove  in  her  hum 
ble  but  honest  way  to  cultivate  good  gifts  and  live 
in  hope.  She  had  worked  for  Miss  Cluskey  in 
the  felon  and  fever  stages  of  Susan's  kitchen  career, 
and  at  general  house-cleanings;  and  as  it  was  her 
judicious  practise  to  improve  such  connections,  she 
called  occasionally  for  gossip  and  the  rare  chance  of  a 
dole  of  fragments.  Thus  she  became  a  favorite  and 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT   HOME.  285 

semi-confidant  of  Frank,  for  jvhom  she  acquired  a 
fondness,  which  she  showed  by  considerately  regarding 
his  little  requests  for  attendance,  cheering  him  with 
her  good-humor,  and  amusing  him  with  her  quaint 
Irish  fancies.  On  her  last  visit  at  the  spinster's  she 
found  the  lad  very  low  in  spirits  and  tormented  with 
apprehension  by  the  prolonged  absence  of  his  sister. 
So  much  did  'Frank's  dejection  interest  Bridget,  that 
she  made  inquiry  at  the  lodgings  lately  occupied  by 
Jane.  She  could  only  learn  of  her  sudden  departure; 
when  her  clothing,  being  all  that  belonged  to  her  on 
the  premises — that  were  hired  furnished — had  been 
sent  for,  and  the  rent  paid  to  the  month's  end.  The 
one  additional  scrap  of  information  which  she  procured 
was  from  an  acquaintance  near  by,  whose  son,  a  fish 
hawker,  had  seen  the  young  woman  out  airing  in  a 
carriage,  on  the  day  of  her  disappearance.  This  was 
just  enough  intelligence  to  whet,  without  in  the  least 
satisfying  Bridget's  curiosity ;  and  there  was  no  help, 
for  if  the  hawker  could  tell  more  he  was  at  the  time 
on  his  business  rounds  in  the  suburbs.  Still  she 
deemed  what  she  had  heard  sufficient  to  alarm  Miss 
Cluskey,  and  incite  her  to  an  instant  search  for  her 
niece.  Her  surprise  was  great  when  her  disclosure  was 
received  by  that  lady  with  unconcern,  and  her  zeal 
rewarded  with  a  rebuff;  all  further  communication 
with  Frank  being  denied  her. 

The  more  the  disappearance  with  its  circumstances 
of  haste  and  mystery  was  revolved  in  the  McFadden 
cerebrum,  the  more  inexplicable  it  seemed;  for  Brid 
get's  ingenuous  bosom  harbored  no  sinister  suspicion 


286  THE   HORTONS;   OB 

concerning  the  conduct  of  the  missing  girl.  In  her 
perplexity  she  made  the  subject  a  theme  of  discourse, 
and  as  she  colored  it  with  the  hues  of  her  imagination 
to  a  gloomy  and  even  horrible  extent,  she  at  length 
withdrew  her  mistress  from  a  diligent  quest  of  a  recipe 
for  the  colic,  with  which  complaint  the  stable  boy 
had  been  afflicted  the  day  before,  and  persuaded  that 
matron  to  give  ear  to  her  narrative;  which,  in  turn, 
was  imparted  to  Emily,  who  was  at  once  interested 
by  it. 

The  event  was  discussed  in  a  family  conference,  and 
Emily  easily  induced  the  old  clerk  to  aid  her  in  an 
attempt  to  explain  it.  They  went  for  this  purpose 
together  to  the  city  and  waited  on  Miss  Cluskey,  who 
received  them  with  stinted  civility.  Emily  could  not 
induce  her  to  engage  in  a  public  inquiry.  "  No,  miss  ; 
it  is  in  vain  to  urge  it;  I'm  not  such  a  fool.  If  you 
could  prove  to  me  this  wonder  is  not  another  of  the 
girl's  strange  fancies,  there  might  be  some  room  for 
hysterics;  though  then  it  would  be  as  well  perhaps 
if  they  were  kept  in  the  family — not  that  I  mean 
reflections.  To  make  a  Judy  of  myself  in  print,  blind 
folded,  is  what  I  don't  mean  to  do — I'm  obliged  to  you, 
all  the  same."  The  spinster  permitted  Emily  to  have 
an  interview  with  Frank. 

"Hoping,  miss,  you  won't  put  anything  into  the 
child's  head  to  frighten  him,  for  he's  trouble  enough 
now." 

The  sick  boy's  face  beamed  with  a  welcome  fit  for  a 
good  angel;  for  though  he  had  seldom  seen  Emily,  he 
had  heard  his  lost  sister  speak  of  her  with  all  the 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  287 

•warmth  of  esteem.  His  solicitude  for  his  sister  found 
speedy  utterance.  Emily  could  not  remove,  but  strove 
to  allay  it  by  ingenious  suggestions.  But,  hopeful  as 
they  were,  they  produced  little  effect.  She  assured 
him  no  endeavor  should  be  spared  to  discover  Jane. 
Her  whereabout,  indeed,  since  she  had  left  her  lodging 
had  been  reported ;  and  although  the  clue  might  result 
in  nothing  at  present,  all  would  surely  be  clear  in  time. 
It  was  not  impossible  that,  allured  by  some  unusual 
advantage,  she  had  left  hurriedly ;  and  that  her  letters 
had  miscarried.  Feeble  consolations,  scarcely  less  like 
December  in  the  young  invalid's  heart  than  its  own 
forebodings. 

As  Emily  sat  by  the  settee  holding  Frank's  white 
and  wasted  hand  while  they  conversed,  a  thought  arose 
in  her  mind. 

"Frank!  wouldn't  you  like  to  be  in  the  country  at 
this  pleasant  season?" 

"Ah,  Miss  Emily,  a  poor  cripple  like  me  must  be 
content.  I  can  think  of  the  country,  you  know;  see 
brooks  in  the  cool  woods,  sunshine  on  the  birds'  backs, 
and  almost  hear  the  rustle  of  leaves." 

"  Can  you  hear  the  birds  and  eat  the  fresh  fruit  in 
your  dreams?" 

"Yes;  and  behold  flowers  of  gorgeous  colors  too, 
that  sometimes  mingle  with  each  other  while  I  look ; 
and  the  other  night  I  awaked  trying  to  wipe  the  stain 
of  mulberries  off  my  mouth.  Ha,  ha!  the  berries  dis 
solved  with  the  dream." 

"I  see  you  are  a  pet  of  queen  Mab.  Seriously, 
Frank,  if  you  choose,  with  your  aunt's  consent  you 


288  THE   HORTONS;    OB 

shall  go  for  a  few  weeks  to  a  quiet  farm-house.  A 
friend  of  mine  is  a  good-natured  gentleman,  and  1 
know  he  will  take  you  to  please  me." 

"It  would  be  delicious,  Miss  Emily!" 

"We  will  see,  then.  I  think  you  will  be  allowed  to 
go,  but  I  must  persuade  your  aunt." 

.Upon  hearing  Emily's  proposition,  which  Davenport 
seconded  with  enthusiasm,  Miss  Cluskey  assumed  to 
hesitate,  but  it  was  plain  that,  for  so  self-willed  a  lady, 
her  objections  would  yield  to  gentle  assaults.  She  was 
to  be  relieved  of  all  expense  of  the  boy's  maintenance 
during  his  absence,  and  that  charge  she  asserted,  with 
some  appearance  of  truth  despite  the  neighborhood 
whispers  of  considerable  savings  shrewdly  invested, 
was  a  burden  disproportioned  to  her  ability.  The 
attendance  upon  her  nephew  she  declared  to  be  at  once 
a  duty  and  a  pleasure,  and,  in  justice  to  her,  so  long  as 
the  weekly  stipend  was  paid  it  had  so  appeared ;  but 
the  demand  of  late  upon  her  purse  had  altered  her 
demeanor,  and  kindliness  was  being  daily  throttled  in 
the  stronger  grasp  of  avarice.  Miss  Cluskey  probably 
had  not  wronged  posterity  in  remaining  single.  It  was 
arranged  that  Frank  should  be  called  for  the  first 
bright  morning  of  the  ensuing  week. 

Henry  Davenport,  having  set  down  Emily  at  Doctor 
Mellen's,  proceeded  to  prosecute  according  to  direction 
a  search  for  the  hawker  of  fish.  That  itinerant  of 
traffic  had  just  left  the  parental  abode,  and  was  sup 
posed  by  a  coatless  and  bare-footed  cadet  of  the  house, 
to  be  producible  in  an  adjacent  street.  Under  the 
stimulus  of  a  dime,  which  he  deposited  in  his  mouth 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT   HOME.  289 

by  an  exact  fling,  the  urchin  led  off  briskly,  and  pre 
sently  announced,  "our  Zack  jist  ahead,  a  giving  of  it 
woice;"  which  the  stentorian  cry  of,  "Yer-ers  your 
fresh  pogees!  only  three  cents  a  pound,"  abundantly 
confirmed. 

"My  friend!"  commenced  the  old  clerk,  "can  I  say  a 
few  words  to  you?" 

"  You  oughter  know  best,  sir." 

"I  see  you  are  a  wag,  and  none  the  worse  for  that — 
I'm  something  of  a  wag,  myself." 

"I  say,  none  of  that  gammon,  uncle.  You  can't  have 
them  fish  no  less  than  three  cents  if  you  take  the  lot — 
nary  red.  Figsey!"  to  an  associate,  "sound  your 
melodeon  a  bit,  drive  up  the  cart  and  stop  at  the 
corner." 

"I  don't  want  to  buy,  but  to  question  you  about  a 
matter  which  interests  me." 

"Figsey!  you  needn't  exert  yourself  uncommon 
while  I  transact  some  private  business  with  this  gent, 
but  keep  an  eye  to  the  purceeds,  and  don't  take  none 
but  bankable  money — Now,  sir !" 

"You  remember  Miss  Jane  Warner." 

"The  sewing  girl  what  lived  near  us?    Yes.    Well?" 

"  You  saw  her  about  the  time  of  her  disappearance,  I 
think,  in  company  with  others." 

"I  say,  uncle,  what's  the  reward?" 

"The  reward!" 

"Any   information    concerning    the  party   will   be 
liberally  re-money-rated,  you   know,  as  they  puts  in 
the  newspapers  when  they  advertise  for   people   sup 
posed  to  be  drownded  or  they  want  to  nab — Is  it  stiff?" 
25 


290  THE   HOETONS;    OR 

"O!  there's  nothing  of  the  kind,  my  friend.     There 
is  nothing  to  come  of  finding  the  girl  in  the  shape  of 
profit  to  any  one;  and  there  is  not  a  suspicion  against 
her.     She  has  a  few  friends  who  are  anxious;  that's  all. 
The  search  is  purely  humane." 
"That  squares  it — so  I  seen  her." 
"Where,  and  with  whom?" 

"A  taking  an  airing  on  the  river  road  in  a  kerridge, 
with  a  man  and  a  woman." 

"What  was  your  impression  of  her  companions?" 
"That's  what  the  lawyers  call  an   opinion    aint  it, 
when  they  requests  the  party  to  pint?" 

"Something  of  the  sort — what  you  thought,  now," 
explained  Davenport  suasively,  slipping  a  half-dollar 
into  the  hawker's  hand. 

"Well,  then,"  proceeded  the  latter,  in  an  oracular 
tone,  "I  considered  the  turn-out  tip-top,  and  the  lady 
sad  gent  as  was  with  her  prime  for  fortygraphs,  and 
remarkable  nobby  and  fire-proof." 

Whether  the  last  attributed  quality  figured  an  ap 
pearance  of  secrecy,  or  was  a  flowery  manner  of  ex 
pressing  pecuniary  responsibility,  Davenport  could  not 
determine;  and  it  seemed,  indeed,  the  only  feature  of 
the  account  which  admitted  of  speculation. 

Pillowed  in  Davenport's  dearborn,  the  brickyards 
T-'ft  behind,  and  the  real  country  before  and  around 
him,  Frank  was  a  happier  mortal  than  the  Egyptian 
queen  when  she  floated  down  the  Cydnus.  Tho 
orchards;  the  grouped  cattle,  standing  or  recumbent 
beneath  some  wide-spreading  tree;  the  yellow  wheat 
stacks;  the  restless  corn,  fretting  with  its  blades  at 


AMERICAN   LIFE    AT   HOME.  291 

( 

every  breeze;  crows  winging  their  way  from  field  to 
wood;  the  scarlet  tomatoes  in  the  gardens;  were  brave 
sights — the  very  dust  was  parcel  of  a  new  nature,  as  it 
rolled  lazily  beside  the  wagon  in  the  sunshine.  And 
when,  after  cheerful  welcomes  and  ministrations  by 
Mrs.  Davenport  and  Emily,  dinner  came,  the  vegetables 
were  tasteful,  beyond  example,  and  for  the  lamb — age 
could  not  have  made  it  mutton,  while  the  juicy  peaches 
blushed  from  the  table  at  their  praises.  Soon  the  boy 
became  a  centre  of  interest  to  the  Davenport  household, 
and  a  favorite  also  of  Farmer  Gregg,  who  persisted  in 
regarding  his  state  as  one  of  the  deplorable  results  of  a 
city  training. 


292 


THE  HORTONS;    OB 


CHAPTEE    XXXIV. 


I  vow  he  is  a  lovely  man — and  such  bravery  of  speech ! 

OLD  PLAY. 


iHILB  Emily  remained  at  Daven 
port's,  Bloker  availed  himself  of  a 
general  invitation  which  he  had 
received  from  the  hospitable  old 
clerk  and  drove  over  behind  his 
trotting  team,  one  horse  of  which 
was  milk  white  with  a  spacious 
chest,  and  the  other  a  chestnut 
bay,  in  new,  silver-mounted  har 
ness.  His  arrival  flustered  Mrs. 
Davenport,  who  was  employed  in  the  preparation  of  a 
valuable  salve,  quite  out  of  her  self-possession.  Henry 
was  open  and  hearty,  and  looked  after  the  horses; 
keeping  a  prudent  distance  however,  upon  the  stable 
boy's  pointing  out,  "a  cloud  in  the  near  "un's  face, 
which  was  a  nugly  sign."  Frank,  reclined  in  an  easy 
chair  in  the  hall,  breathed  the  cool  breeze  which  came 
from  the  western  landscape,  and  luxuriated  among  tin: 
pictured  pages — wondering  voluptuary! — of  a  volume 
of  the  Penny  Magazine.  Jacob  Bloker  accosted  the  lad 
in  a  sympathetic  tone  which  indicated  yearnings  under 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  293 

his  fawn-colored  waistcoat.  The  venerable  matron  dis 
covered  at  once  the  tender  locality.  "  My  word  for  it," 
she  subsequently  said,  "my  word  for  it,  Emily,  that 
man  possesses  a  noble  nature  1" 

After  tea  Bloker  presented  his  arm  to  Emily  and 
begged  the  honor  of  her  company  for  a  twilight  walk. 
He  was  in  smooth  spirits,  comprehensively  benevolent, 
and  of  mild  conversation.  A  cat,  startled  by  their 
approach  and  stopped  by  a  wicket,  plunged  into  a 
sunken  cask  half-full  of  water,  which  served  as  a  pro 
vision  for  the  garden,  and  for  the  propagation  of  mos- 
quitos.  Bicker's  sensibility  was  aroused,  and  discard 
ing  his  coat  he  hurried  to  puss's  rescue. 

"Suffering,  Miss  Horton,"  he  said,  "in  every  shape 
distresses  me.  Whenever  I  see  a  dog  ill  treated  I 
think  of  that  fine  line  of  the  poet, 

'  Even  as  it  fawned  he  struck  the  poor  dumb  tyke.' 

I  started  a  petition  lately  to  prevent  the  cruel  tying  of 
calves  in  the  market  carts." 

"We  would  be  glad,  .sir,  to  have  your  help  in  a 
search  for  a  missing  lady:  Jane  Warner  has  disap 
peared  and  cannot  be  heard  of." 

"It  is  singular — How  long  has  she*been  gone?" 

"Since  the  middle  of  June." 

"And  there  are  no  traces  of  her,  you  say?" 

"None." 

"Why,  then,  it  looks  serious.  There  was  no  despair 
in  the  case,  you  think?" 

"We  cannot  tell.  I  believe,  however,  that  she  pos 
sessed  enough  moral  vigor  to  resist  it.  The  people 
25* 


294  THE   HORTOISTS;    OR 

where  she  lodged  say  that,  though  melancholy,  she  wag 
right  in  her  mind  to  the  time  of  her  departure.  That 
is  all  we  can  learn,  except  that  she  was  quite  poor,  and 
was  last  seen  in  a  carriage  with  two  companions." 

"The  little  information  you  have  got  will  at  least 
sanction  the  supposition  of  an  unsettled  mind;  and  the 
shades  of  insanity,  the  doctors  say,  are  often  so  nice  as 
to  elude  common  observation.  But  what  was  she  doing 
alone  in  a  city  lodging?" 

"It  appears  her  lowness  of  spirits  after  her  mother's 
death  displeased  the  school-teachers  who  employed  her, 
and  she  lost  her  place.  I  did  not  know  of  her  condi- 
tion^or  I  would  have  gone  to  her." 

"That,  again,  points  to  a  disturbed  intellect;  made 
worse,  perhaps,  by  the  trials  of  unaccustomed  poverty. 
I  wish  I  could  think  otherwise.  She  may  have  wan 
dered  to  some  remote  spot,  and  be  still  alive.  If  so, 
she  will  have  been  cared  for,  and  can  be  found.  There 
is  another  and  a  sadder  conclusion.  She  has  an  aunt,  I 
believe,  in  the  city^what  does  she  propose  ?" 

"Nothing." 

"Nothing!" 

"She  pretends  to  think  that  Jane  has  gone  away  in 
come  caprice,  and  refuses  to  search  for  her." 

"You  astonish  me.  She  cannot  prevent  our  search 
ing:  such  cases  are  the  common  property  of  the 
humane,  among  whom  Miss  Warner  hitherto  has  not 
been  inclined  to  number  me.  But  I  bear  no  resent 
ment — to  forgive  such  enmities  is  as  much  the  interest 
of  the  philosopher,  as  the  duty  of  the  Christian ;  and  I, 
at  least,  wish  the  equanimity  of  the  one,  if  1  cannot 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT   HOME.  295 

claim  the  added  happiness  of  the  other.  If  the  lady 
had  been  prosperous  I  would  have  kept  aloof  from  her 
affairs ;  but  now  I  am  anxious  to  show  that  I  have  been 
misunderstood.  It  is  possible  though,  that  her  aunt's 
conjecture  is  right — I  don't  think  so,  still  it  is  possible; 
in  which  case  a  public  inquiry  would  tend  to  frustrate 
.its  purpose;  for  the  young  lady  might  seek  a  more 
secluded  place  of  concealment.  I  think  the  search  had 
best  be  private,  and  I  will  undertake  to  employ  a  de 
tective  upon  it." 

"I  did  not  hope  for  so  much  zeal  when  I  asked  your 
aid.  Accept  my  poor  thanks,  and  be  sure  of  the  richer 
gratitude  of  her  brother." 

"I  wish  I  could  promote  his  comfort.  When  you 
think  I  can,  command  my  purse;"  and  he  felicitated 
himself  that  an  obstacle  to  his  desires  was  timeously 
and  securely  removed.  Norey's  had  not  come  to  his 
relief  a  day  too  soon. 

As  they  sat  together  that  summer  evening  in  the 
porch  and  chatted,  while  the  moonlight  crept  stealthily 
upon  them,  Bloker  felt  that  he  occupied  a  higher  plane 
in  the  regard  of  Emily  Horton.  They  chatted  of 
flowers,  affections,  pleasant  people,  and  the  comet;  and 
it  was  as  refreshing  as  would  have  been  a  zephyr 
tempered  by  the  pole,  that  measured  recitation  by 
Jacob  Bloker  of  some  nervous  lines  of  old  Chap 
man: 

" Innocence,  the  sacred  amulet 

'Gainst  all  the  poisons  of  infirmity, 
Of  all  misfortune,  injury,  and  death: 
That  makes  a  man  in  tune  still  in  himself; 


296  THE  HOETONS;   OB 

Free  from  the  hell  to  be  his  own  accuser; 
Ever  in  quiet,  endless  joy  enjoying, 
No  strife  nor  no  sedition  in  his  powers." 

It  was  surely  Marcus  Antoninus  set  to  music  among 
lilies  beneath  the  fawn-colored  waistcoat. 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT   HOME. 


297 


CHAPTEE   XXXY. 

Behold  I  see  the  haven  nigh  at  hand, 

To  which  I  meane  my  wearie  course  to  bend; 

Vere  the  maine  shete,  and  beare  up  with  the  land, 

The  which  afore  is-fayrly  to  be  kend, 

And  seemeth  safe  from  storms  that  may  offend : 

There  this  fayre  Virgin  wearie  of  her  way 

Must  landed  bee,  now  at  her  lourneyes  end — 

FAERIE  QUEENE. 

HERB  are  experiences  in  life  which 
put  an  enduring  impress  upon  the 
individual,  and  yet  cannot  afterward 
be  adequately  described  in  detail. 
The  traces  that  remain  are  but  sep 
arated  memories  emitted  from  the 
depths  of  our  consciousness ;  as  bub 
bles  sluggishly  rise  to  the  surface  of 
a  lake  when  the  storm  is  over.  A 
stroke  of  affliction  was  suddenly  laid 
upon  Bradley.  Seemingly  in  the  full  vigor  of  health 
when  Spring  came  with  bloom  and  brightness,  Lydia 
Bardleigh  was  now  dying  of  a  cancer  in  the  neck. 
She  had  been  told  all — the  knife  would  not  avail ;  and 
she  had  calmly  replied,  "Even  so,  come,  Lord  Jesus." 

Bradley   was   often   at    The   Cedars    now,   a   worn, 
subdued  man,  waiting  to  part  with  his  betrothed  in 


298  THE  HORTONS;   OB 

the  ante-chamber  of  Death.  A  sepulchral  tranquillity 
seemed  to  rest  upon  the  old  mansion  and  its  surround 
ings — a  sepulchral  tranquillity  open  to  the  garish  day, 
and  dressed  in  a  poor  pomp  of  sunshine.  The  hospi 
table  fires  were  quenched.  Carriage  wheels  still  grated 
on  the  approach,  but  the  challenge  of  welcome  was 
hushed ;  there  was  no  gay  sally  and  answering  laughter 
under  the  sheltering  elms,  nor  gambols  to  make  cheer 
ful  the  shadows  of  the  hemlocks.  The  flutter  of  mid 
night  merriment  had  risen  to  these  hoary  rafters ;  but 
now  the  lights  were  out. 

Our  illusions  overmaster  us,  and  men  tread  among 
latent  shapes  of  mortality  as  if  their  feet  were  eternal 
on  flint.  So  the  eye  sees  not  in  the  beautiful  flowers 
of  the  aconite  a  lurking  poison  which  can  paralyse  the 
heart.  Perception  itself  is  hoodwinked  by  hope,  and 
bidden  to  contemplate  the  possibilities  of  Providence — 
and  prayer  without  resignation  invokes  a  miracle  to 
stay  dissolving  nature.  Hence  the  bedside  trust  of 
friends  in  a  final  effort  of  skill,  some  potent  remedy  to 
rally  the  sinking  powers — ammonia,  phosphorus,  be 
it  what  it  may — even  while  the  sick  man's  features 
sharpen  into  the  last  fleeting  fashion  of  the  mortal 
mask.  But  where  the  fate  rankles  in  the  corrupting 
flesh — where  the  ulcer  day  by  day  spreads  corrosive, 
searching  toward  the  sources  of  vitality,  and  naught 
can  stop  it,  even  the  mercy  of  deception  is  denied. 
Then  fails  the  heart  which  loves.  Yet  solicitude,  like  a 
shadow,  attends  on  certainty — it  is  David  still  stretched 
fasting  upon  the  earth  for  the  sick  child  after  the 
prophecy  of  Nathan.  This  sense  of  dependence  is 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME.  299 

established  for  the  subordination  of  the  creature.     For 
relief  from  his  heaviness,  Bradley  tried  to  read,  but 
there  was  no  spell  in  eloquence  and  fancy  now.     He 
sought  consolation  in  remembrances  of  the  past — the 
past  with  her,  which  he  had  thought  consecrated  for 
ever   to   happiness;  but  it  was  no   longer  joyous — it 
answered  him  with  hollow  echoes,  as  do  solitary  mid 
night  streets  the  tread  of  the  wayfarer.    Better  there 
had  never  been  a  dawn,  since  there  was  to  be  no  day. 
Philosophy  presented  motionless  lips — your  only  stoic 
without  a  heart — like  the  Sphinx  in  stone,  where  dwelt 
neither  complaint  nor  comfort.     He  knew  not  the  love 
of  "the  First  begotten  of  the  dead,  and  the  Prince  of 
the  kings  of  the  earth."     He  sought  in  the  world  of 
Shakespeare,    who  of  uninspired  men   he   reverenced 
most,  instances  of  heroic  resignation  to  calamity,  that 
he  might  lesson  himself  withal.     There  the  troubled 
resolution   of  Brutus  was  able  to  bear  the  death  of 
Portia, 

"  With  meditating  that  she  must  die  once." 

But  the  buds  of  young  love  never  yet  unfolded  be 
neath  the  Eoman's  cold  and  lowering  sky.  What, 
he  urged,  were  the  tears  which  the  scarcely  lingering 
Lear — for  sorrow  dignifies  like  wine,  and  hesitates  at 
no  comparison — what  were  the  tears  that  that  "  great 
decay"  shed  over  the  dead  Cordelia,  to  this  slow  dis 
tress;  to  the  pangs  when  are  riven  affianced  hearts. 
Even  the  wisdom  and  pathos  of  the  greatest  of  poets 
were  thus  measured  by  Bradley  with  a  glance  of  the 
mind.  A  sickening  horror  sat  upon  him,  and  he  shud- 


800  THE   HORTONS;   OR 

dered  in  spirit  as  at  an  apocalypse  of  terror  issuing 
from  the  bosom  of  an  Indian  summer  noon. 

No  portion  of  his  suffering  escaped  the  vigilant  ten 
derness  of  Lydia.  As  a  woman — in  spirit  a  wife,  she 
accepted  it  as  a  testimony  of  his  affection,  and  from 
the  amplitude  of  her  love  could  have  returned  a  keener 
pain  for  every  pain  of  his.  But  she  beheld  in  it  also 
a  dangerous  growth  of  discontent  tending  toward  a 
defiant  reprehension  of  the  Supreme  Wisdom.  One 
morning,  a  fair  September  morning,  warm  and  still, 
and  fragrant  with  the  sun-pressed  odor  of  grapes,  she 
called  him  to  her  side. 

"Dear  heart!"  she  said,  "let  us  never  lose  sight  of 
the  Divine  intention,  that  we  should  grow  strong  by 
suffering." 

"  It  has  been  often  said." 

"And  often  proved,  dear  Bradley,  to  salvation.  'As 
many  as  I  love,  I  rebuke  and  chasten.'  To  be  so 
chastened  is  to  be  cherished  by  the  Spirit,  and  our  sick 
souls,  when  they  humbly  long  for  the  Love  and  the 
Power,  are  watched  and  ministered  to  by  angels,  as  our 
blessed  Saviour  was  comforted  from  heaven  after  the 
temptations  of  hell  in  the  wilderness." 

"I  do  not  find  the  comfort,  Lydia;  so  let  us  pass  it, 
and  I  shall  endure  as  best  I  can." 

"That,  Bradley,  is  a  confession  of  darkness;  and  'If 
the  light  which  is  in  thee  be  darkness  how  great  is  that 
darkness.' " 

"  It  is  true ;  there  is  no  day  in  me." 

"Then  join  me  in  prayer,  dear  Bradley,  that  a  ray 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  801 

of  the  Divine  brightness  which  proceedeth  from  Jesus 
Christ  may  shine  into  our  hearts." 

"I  have  no  power  of  prayer." 

"Our  blessed  Saviour  has  invited  us  to  ask;  and  we 
can,  if  we  approach  Him  in  a  spirit  of  penitent  meek 
ness,  forgiving  all  men,  as  we  desire  to  be  forgiven  and 
favored.  As  we  grow  to  be  poor  in  heart,  we  grow  to 
be  prayerful.  'Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor,  and 
are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.  Take  my 
yoke  upon  you  and  learn  of  me ;  for  I  am  meek  and 
lowly  in  heart:  and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your 
souls.'  " 

"If  affliction  like  •  this  be  good,  why  does  nature 
agonize?" 

"It  is  the  earthy  nature.  These  ties  of  time  while 
we  live  together  here,  are  for  a  holy  purpose  in  God's 
economy;  but  in  heaven  our  affections  will  probably 
not  be  limited.  It  is  a  fine  thought  of  Eichard  Bax 
ter's —  'The  enjoyment  of  His  kingdom  is,  as  the  light 
of  the  sun,  each  have  the  whole,  and  the  rest  never  the 
less.'  And  the  sanctified  heart,  even  here,  should  re 
joice  at  the  prospect  of  a  love  rising  to  the  Highest  and 
boundless  as  the  universe.  The  purified,  who  are  con 
genial  here,  will  find  an  unspeakable  rapture  in  that 
emulation  which  embraces  heaven.  That  we  are  soon 
to  be  parted,"  and  her  voice  trembled,  "is  perhaps 
because  we  are  assigned  for  higher  purposes  hereafter. 
God,  in  his  infinite  and  bountiful  compassion,  grant 
it!" 

"We  should  accustom  ourselves,  then,  to  meditate 
011  the  loss  of — of — " 
26 


802  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

•'  The  beloved  wlio  are  ready  to  depart,  dear  Brad- 
ley." 

" — With,  composure — nay,  exultation.  I  know  it  is 
the  Christian's  consolation.  To  me  it  is  only  a  solemn 
abstract  solace,  which  sheds  no  relief.  We  want  them 
here — we  need  their  benign  influence  more  than  do  the 
saints  above." 

"That,  Bradley,  is  a  presumptuous  reflection!  Each 
earnest  wish,  I  grant,  will  find  an  argument,  but  the 
strongest  argument  is  weakness  when  arrayed  against 
the  possibilities  of  life.  'How  little  should  God  hear 
from  us  if  we  had  what  we  would  have!'  Believe  that 
I  feel  it  when  I  say  again  that,  His  purposes  are  not 
bounded  by  the  narrow  limits  of  time;  beyond  them 
His  heavens  are  full  of  days.  Our  Father's  providence, 
which  has  numbered  the  very  hairs  of  our  heads,  is  suf 
ficient.  Remember,  'That  which  thou  sowest  is  not 
quickened  except  it  die:  So  also  is  the  resurrection  of 
the  dead.  It  is  sown  in  corruption,  it  is  raised  in  in- 
corruption:  It  is  sown  in  dishonor,  it  is  raised  in 
glory:  it  is  sown  in  weakness,  it  is  raised  in  power." 
And  that  power  implies  uses;  as  yet  concealed  behind 
the  vail,  but  we  know  them  to  be  the  uses  of  Benefi 
cence." 

Charley  Bardleigh  came  home  from  college.  He  was 
really  distressed,  but  nineteen  and  a  Freshman.  He 
brought  studious  intentions  and  several  text-books, 
which  were  usually  shelved  together,  giving  place  to  a 
novel  or  the  last  magazine.  Most  of  the  time  he  was 
out-doors,  looking  after  the  education  of  a  pair  of 


AMERICAN   LITE  AT   HOME.  303 

young  dogs,  or  taking  apart,  polishing  and  oiling  his 
guns,  in  a  quiet  way.  Yet  Charley  Bardleigh  was 
really  distressed;  kept  from  social  gatherings,  and 
even  declined  to  pull  a  trigger  on  the  game  which 
abounded  alluringly.  Now  and  then,  the  judge's 
wonted  hilarity  would  show  itself  for  a  moment,  like  a 
spark  in  tinder,  and  go  out  in  the  sombreness  that  pre 
vailed.  There  was  a  cast  of  womanly  gentleness  in  his 
bearing. 

The  time  was  come  for  Bradley  to  depart.  She  had 
fallen  into  a  slumber  with  her  hand  clasped  on  his. 
The  wings  seemed  folded  up  within  her.  He  would 
have  gently  disengaged  her  hand  without  awaking  her. 
Conscious  of  the  attempt,  she,  smiling,  opened  her 
eyes. 

So  serenely  lay  The  Cedars  landscape  around  him  as 
he  rode  away,  so  peaceful  was  it  in  a  world  of  clamor 
and  care,  that  his  heart  grew  passionless  and  reveren 
tial,  and  he  paused  to  contemplate  it.  The  high  ground 
rose  in  terraces,  planted  with  fruit  trees,  from  a  broad 
margin  of  smooth-rolled  meadow  which  stretched  along 
a  creek,  the  further  boundary  of  which  was  a  sloping 
hill-side  heavily  wooded.  An  array  of  trees  that  would 
have  gladdened  the  critical  eye  of  Evelyn  flanked  the 
mansion,  among  which  some  noble  weeping  willows, 
their  tresses  tinged  with  yello.w,  were  conspicuous. 
All  was  repose;  only  a  few  sheep  were  to  be  seen  nib 
bling  in  the  nearer  pasture.  The  afternoon  sun  cast 
the  shadows  of  the  orchard  forward  on  the  upland,  and 
each  growth  seemed  bending  to  reach  its  unreal  coun 
terpart  in  silent  eagerness. 


304 


THE  HORTONS;    OR 


CHAPTEK   XXXVI. 

With  these  drugs  will  I,  this  very  day,  compound  the  true  orvietan, 
that  noble  medicine  which  is  so  seldom  found  genuine  and  effective 
within  these  realms  of  Europe. — KENILWORTH. 

>ARMER  GREGG  had,  as  lie  styled  it, 
"an  attack  of  the  bilious."  Driving  in 
his  ox-cart  to  a  schooner  which  was 
receiving  grain  and  moored  a  quarter 
of  a  cable's  length  from  the  shore,  by  a 
freak  or  fright  of  the  cattle  he  was  shot 
into  the  river.  Farmer  Gregg  had  been 
taking  calomel,  and  was  lifted  out  of  his 
involuntary  bath  an  alarmed  man,  for 
he  cherished  a  belief  in  the  damao-inw 

o     o 

result  of  cold  upon  the  use  of  that  remedy.  His  case, 
however,  might  not  be  hopeless,  and  the  fame  of  Mrs. 
Davenport's  curative  skill  had  reached  him.  Accord 
ingly  he  put  on  his  "bettermost"  suit,  including  a  well- 
preserved  bell-crown  hat  of  great  antiquity,  mounted 
his  sleek  mare  Dolly,  and  fared  forth  to  consult  the 
oracle  of  healing.  Thither  let  us  accompany  him,  and 
keep  the  worthy  matron's  pharmacopeia  at  a  salutary 
distance. 

The  old  clerk  is  leaning  on  a  fence  and  considering 
his  melons  in  a  rapture  of  admiration.    Farmer  Gregg's, 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  305 

"How  d'  do,  neighbor?"  as  he  ambles  up  on  the  grass, 
startles  him  as  would  a  congreve  rocket,  and  after 
looking  foolish  a  moment  he  coughs  with  dignity  and 
returns  the  address  somewhat  as  if  it  were  an  accusa 
tion. 

"Reether  a  fine  lot,  neighbor — I've  seen  'em  grow 
bigger  though,  in  the  shade  of  tater  vines." 

"/never  saw  larger  in  the  city  markets." 

"Haint?  Well,  that  beats!  Why,  I've  tuk  'em 
there  nearly  twice  the  size.  But  I'll  own  that  was  an 
uncommon  season.  Sut's  good  on  the  young  vines  to 
keep  off  the  bugs. — I  feel  dreadful  strange,  internal." 

"Sick  at  the  stomach?" 

"No;  I  reether  think — its — in — my — bones." 

"Appears  to  me  you  need  something  searching — I 
dare  say  mother  can  tell." 

"  Why,  that's  jist  what  I'm  after.  Beckey,  she  tried 
to  persuade  me  not,  but  to  take  some  hot  barm  tea 
instead;  but  I  reckon  there  aint  much  grip  in  that. 
Your  mother,  neighbor,  is  getting  among  folks  an 
awful  reputation  for  doctorin'." 

Frank  accosted  the  farmer  cheerfully,  as  the  latter 
deposited  his  diseased  bones  in  a  melancholy  manner 
on  an  end  of  the  settee. 

"Tired,  Uncle  Gregg?" 

"No,  little  one;  I  don't  feel  bright  like — I  haint 
worked  off  enough  bile,  I  expect." 

This  was  a  subterfuge;  the  ailing  agriculturist  had 

determined  to  unbosom  himself  only  to  his  medical 

adviser.     Mrs.  Davenport  shortly  came   in   from  her 

clear-starching.      She   produced  an   adequate   remedy 

26* 


806  THE  nonToisrs;  OB 

from  the  receipt  of  a  celebrated  German  woman,  whose 
two  immediate  male  ancestors  were  physicians  of  great 
repute,  the  elder  having  been  the  seventh  son  of  a 
seventh  son,  and  imprisoned  in  a  castle  as  a  wizard. 
The  farmer  received  it  with  gratitude,  and  the  respect 
due  to  a  medicine  so  assured,  without  caring  to  inquire 
whether  it  was  counteractive  or  preventive.  As  he 
rose  to  leave,  he  suddenly  bethought  himself  of  a  pur 
pose,  and  plunging  his  hand  into  the  pocket  of  his 
coat  drew  forth  a  cucumber  which  was  oddly  curled 
upon  itself. 

"It's  a  cur'osity  for  you,  Frank.  I've  watched  it 
grow  a  purpose — it's  as  perfect  as  a  twist  in  a  pig's 
tail.  Sich  are  the  wonders  of  nature ! — And  that  puts 
me  in  mind  of  something  curious  I  found  the  other 
day,  and  meant  to  show  Miss  Emily." 

"She  is  in  the  city  now,  but  we  expect  her  here  the 
last  of  the  week — Mr.  Horton  insists  she  shall  come  for 
her  health,"  remarked  Davenport. 

"  Wife  thinks  it  may  turn  out  kind  of  supernatural, 
but  I  say  it  was  the  wind." 

"What  was  it/ neighbor  Gregg?"  inquired  the  old 
lady. 

"  O !  I  haint  told.  Well,  I  took  my  corn  to  a  new 
mill  to  get  ground — for  to  my  mind,  neighbor,  Job 
Smelt  is  a  raising  this  year  a  leetle  too  much  pork.  It 
was  a  good  stretch  further,  but  I  wagoned  quite  a  jag. 
Coming  back,  in  the  road  by  the  hospital  for  crazy 
folks,  I  seen  what  I  took  to  be  a  letter,  and  'lighted 
and  picked  it  up.  Then  I  seen  it  was  only  a  letter 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT  HOME.  307 

cover;  but  I  read  the  hand- write,  and  it  was  Miss 
Emily's  name  in  full.  So  I  kept  it,  and  here  it  is." 

"That's  almost  as  strange  as  a  circumstance  which 
happened  to  aunt  Betsy  Harper's  daughter,  only  in 
stead  of  thinking  it  supernatural,  she  called  it  roman 
tic;  and  so  it  turned  out.  Let  me  see — was  it  the 
great  strawberry  year,  or  not — that  was  in  thirty-five, 
warn't  it,  neighbor  ?  No  matter.  Aunt  Betsy — " 

And  here  the  old  lady's  reminiscence  was  interrupted 
by  an  exclamation  of  surprise  from  Frank,  to  whom 
in  turn  Davenport  had  handed  the  envelope: 

"It  is  Jane's  writing — I  know  it  welll" 


308 


THE  HORTONS;   OR 


CHAPTEK   XXXVII. 


You  have  a  nimble  wit:  I  think  'twas  made  of  Atalanta's  heels.  Will 
you  .sit  down  with  me?  and  we  two  will  rail  against  our  mistress  the 
world,  aud  all  our  misery. — JAQUES. 


ITH  the  locomotive  rapidity  of 
thought,  we  pass  from  the  rural 
hearthstone  to  a  city  mansion. 
Standing  in  the  centre  of  spacious 
parlors  flooded  with  light  from 
chandelier  and  candelabrum,  Doc 
tor  Mellen  and  his  fair  daughter 
are  receiving  their  guests.  Among 
these  are  Bloker  and  Max  Hey- 
hurst.  Doctor  Pledget,  witty  and 
debonair,  would  perhaps  be  present  but  for  the  shadow 
of  a  dead  dog  which  separates  him  from  his  scientific 
brother. 

It  was  a  butcher's  terrier  suspected  of  being  mad, 
which  Mellen  had  bought  to  vindicate  his  theory  of 
the  harmlessness  of  rabies.  His  servants,  who,  in  con 
sideration  of  high  wages,  had  put  up  with  a  great  deal 
in  the  way  of  snakes,  fled  in  dismay;  but  the  doctor  in 
spite  of  the  exodus  persevered  with  unruffled  temper 
toward  the  conversion  or  confutation  of  Pledget.  It 


AMERICAN"  LIFE    AT   HOME.  309 

•was  at  the  very  height  of  a  hot  dispute  for  and  against 
the  existence  of  hydrophobia,  between  the  two  gentle 
men,  that  the  terrier,  which  had  been  fastened  with 
unphilosophic  carelessness  to  a  rope,  escaped  from  its 
tether  and  burst  into  the  apartment  where  the  con 
troversy  was  proceeding.  Doctor  Pledget  grasped  a 
poker  and  skirmished  with  the  intruder,  while  Doctor 
Mellen  called  loudly  upon  him  to  desist.  But,  at 
length  pressed  into  an  angle  of  the  room  where  further 
retreat  was  impossible,  in  sheer  desperation -with  one 
blow  he  fairly  finished  the  dog  and  the  experiment 
together;  and  at  the  same  unlucky  moment  the  friend 
ship  of  the  disputants  terminated. 

The  philosophical  occupations  of  Doctor  Mellen  kept 
him  much  apart  from  his  family.  He  made  minute 
and  wonderful  experiments  on  the  hairs  of  various 
animals,  dividing  and  sub-dividing  them,  and  pressing 
them  to  the  utmost  verge  of  microscopic  scrutiny. 
When  he  had  digested  his  labors  and  discoveries  in 
this  important  department  of  natural  science  into  a 
fat  quarto,  and  printed  it,  he  turned  his  attention  to 
hides.  He  dissected  them — he  macerated  them — he 
tested  them  with  acids.  On  a  supply  of  biscuits  and 
hard  boiled  eggs  in  his  laboratory  he  would  convert 
the  integument  of  a  crocodile,  as  hard  as  the  heart  of 
Pharaoh,  into  a  p^ltaceous  analysis.  Even  the  skin  of 
the  armadillo  defied  in  vain  his  researches.  Outside 
of  his  peculiar  province  he  was  an  urbane  and  unas 
suming  man;  but  in  it  he  thundered  his  tenets  in  the 
journals  of  learned  societies  and  ponderous  pamphlets. 
These  were  answered  by  other  Mellcns,  in  other  parts 


310  THE   HOKTONS;      OR 

of  the  world,  with  dogmatical  speculations  on  the  other 
side;  which  the  doctor,  in  turn,  derided  in  sinewy 
English  as  very  vagaries  of  fancy.  He  had  been 
scathed  by  the  explosion  of  retorts,  and  rescued  in  a 
state  of  suspended  animation  from  unwholesome  gases » 
but  he  was  in  harness  still,  patiently  investigating,  and 
as  good  as  ever  for  his  part  in  the  clash  of  controversy. 

The  ladies  rustle  -and  trail  their  graceful  finery  in 
the  promenade.  The  talk  is  humorous;  a  little  censo 
rious,  perhaps,  if  the  frequent  breaks  of  answering 
laughter  which  sometimes  seem  derisory  are  its  index. 
It  rises  and  falls  with  the  performance  and  cessation  of 
the  opera  airs.  By-and-by,  when  night  and  morning 
are  at  meeting,  there  will  be  a  supper  creditable  to 
gastronomic  art ;  nothing  lean  and  tough  disguised  in 
condiments,  you  may  believe,  but  veritable  oysters, 
quails,  pate  de  foi  gras,  ices,  and  fruit.  When  the 
blithe  milkmaids  are  out  in  the  grey  morning  with 
their  pails,  these  gentle  bosoms  will  be  fluctuating,  to 
the  time  of  sounds  more  or  less  melodious,  toward  the 
half  way  of  their  rest. 

"So  you  think,  Miss  Emily  Horton,  the  German  was 
right  who  said,  'American  women  resemble  tulips,  in 
whom  only  the  head  delights?'"  asked  Caroline. 

"No;  but  not  altogether  wrong.  You  must  allow, 
too,  for  the  point  of  the  simile." 

"And  you,  Mr.  Hey  hurst — as  an  artist?" 

"A  beer-guzzling  libeller,  on  my  conviction  as  an 
artist  and  a  man." 

"Talking  of  heads — Hey  hurst!  I  .wish  you  would 
borrow  those  Peruvian  skulls  you  spoke  of;  I  want 


AMEKICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME.  311 

their  angles  for  a  paper  in  confutation  of  Occiput's 
March-hare  theory.  The  traveller's  offence  is,  I  sus 
pect,  that  he  declares  that  our  ladies  are  running  down 
in  a  regular  muscular  atrophy,"  said  Doctor  Mellen. 

"It  may  be  safely  averred  that,  of  American  women 
not  obliged  to  labor  not  two  in  ten  take  the  bodily 
exercise  which  nature  requires,"  persisted  Emily. 

"  I  don't  know,  Miss  Horton :  Nature  is  an  indulgent 
parent,"  observed  Max. 

"She  seems  to  be;  but  disobeyed,  presses  a  little 
here  and  a  little  there,  and  punishes  in  generations.  A 
woman  in  the  cultivation  of  her  powers,  physical  as 
well  as  moral,  should  consider  that  she  is,  like  the  old 
Greek,  planting  for  posterity. — Do  we  walk  ?" 

"No;  but  glide,  like  goddesses,"  responded  Max, 
gravely. 

"Fantastic  compliments  apart,  Mr.  Heyhurst,  you 
know  how  many  of  our  countrywomen  languish  into 
pale,  expressionless  beings,  with  chests  that  court  con 
sumption.  The  influence  of  the  father — who  should  be 
in  all  vital  matters  the  household's  head,  accountable  to 
his  Head  in  heaven — is  too  little  felt  in  the  education 
of  his  daughters;  and  in  a  Christian  this  neglect  is  a 
delinquency.  To  take  a  more  restricted  view,  there  is 
too  much  work  which  may  be  called  by  a  general  title 
time- waste,  done  by  young  women  who  are  just  well 
enough  off  to  live  without  labor,  and  who  pass  their 
spiritless  lives,  when  employed,  chiefly  in  knitting  cot 
ton  thread  for  glove-money.  This  frifling  business, 
when  not  pursued  for  a  livelihood,  while  it  stimulates 
vanity,  ensures  a  neglect  of  the  cultivation  of  the  heart, 


312  THE   HORTOtfS;   OB 

the  head,  and  the  body.  The  home  industry,  that 
tasteful  tidiness  so  necessary  to  the  comfort  of  a  civil 
ized  family,  is  slighted,  because  the  young  ladies  have 
orders  for  thread  collars  from  the  shops.  The  confu 
sion  of  the  house  is  never  mended,  nor  is  it  possible  to 
shut  all' the  dirt  out  of  sight,  and  spiders  spin  blissfully 
on  the  very  looking-glasses.  Besides,  this  idle  occupa 
tion  is  a  wrong  to  the  poor  who  must  work  for  bread, 
and  the  virtuous  and  incapable  destitute — the  children 
of  our  common  Father — who  have  a  claim  upon  the 
hand-charity  of  their  sisters  that  are  blessed  with 
leisure." 

"Tilt  your  needles  against  every  other  woman's — 'tis 
your  vocation,  coz!  Work  moral  uglinesses  into  their 
absurd  embroidery,  and  exigences  into  their  edging. 
I  am  of  Rosalind's  uncle's  mind  touching  the  evils  to 
be  laid  to  the  charge  of  women:  'There  were  none 
principal :  they  were  all  like  one  another,  as  half-pence 
are;  every  one  fault  seeming  monstrous,  till  his  fellow- 
fault  came  to  match  it.'  Nay,  never  talk  to  me;  I  am 
all  tears!" 

"  '  Well,  this  is  the  forest  of  Arden' — in  that  vein  at 
least." 

"Will  you  recommend  punching  the  dummy,  Emily, 
to  our  suffering  sex  ? — You  never  saw  a  lady  punch  the 
dummy,  Mr.  Bloker?" 

"Never  had  that  felicity." 

"I  was  born  a  dummy,  if  any  dear  creature  wants 
exercise,"  said  Max. 

"It  belongs  to  a  calisthenics  of  our  own.  The 
dummy  is  a  canvaa  case  stuffed  with  straw,  and  sus- 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT   HOME.  313 

pended  from  a  beam  in  a  clear  space.  The  operators 
are  Emily  and  I,  who  stand  opposite  to  each  other,  and 
use  our  arms  with  a  purpose  upon  the  swinging  sack." 

"A  pilfering  from  the  prize  ring,  and  a  movable  of 
Mr.  Benjamin  Caunt's!"  exclaimed  Hey  hurst. 

"Do  you  know  it  is  actually  thought  vulgar  in  many 
neighborhoods  for  ladies  to  walk  by  the  mile?  And  I 
have  seen  American  women,  pretending  to  cultivation 
and  rich  in  luxurious  surroundings,  who  considered  it 
gross  and  unrefined  to  confess  a  good  appetite,"  said 
Emily. 

"What  do  the  delicate  darlings  feed  on — macaroons 
moistened  in  maraschino?"  asked  Caroline. 

"  When  I  write  a  romance  I  shall  make  the  heroine 
eat  apple-dumplings,  even  if  I  am  compelled  in  the  end 
to  use  poison  and  finish  her  with  an  Italianized  straw 
berry,"  said  Max. 

"  To  change  the  subject — Mr.  Heyhurst,  have  you 
seen  Crome  Green's  famous  picture?"  asked  Doctor 
Mellen. 

"Yes;  my  eyes  have  partaken  of  the  general  glad 
ness." 

"What  is  it?"  inquired  Bloker. 

"Ah!  there  you  pose  me.  He  calls  it,  'The  Coming 
Man.'  I  suppose  it  is." 

"Coming  from  where?"  asked  Bloker. 

"And  for  what?"  added  Caroline. 

"  The  Man  of  the  Future,  seen  through  the  Mist  of 
the  Present." 

"It  can  hardly  be  a  fog  worth  speaking  of  which 
permits  him  to  be  seen,"  said  Bloker. 
27 


814  THE   HOETONS;    OR 

"He  is  pot  distinctly  visible,  which,  if  it  hurts  the 
prophecy,  hejps  the  imaginative  spectator  to  suppose  a 
grand  conception.  For  my  part,  it  looked  so  like  one 
of  my  late  landlords,  who  did  me  the  honor  to  die  my 
creditor,  that  I  half  suspected  his  ghost  inspired  the* 
design." 

"And  you  didn't  feel  reproved?"  asked  Caroline. 

"In  the  very  mild  effects  of  the  ideal  I  saw  no  re 
proach;  of  course  it  would  have  been  superfluous 
politeness  in  me  to  reproach  myself.  If  the  picture  is 
at  all  typical  of  the  time  to  come,  we  may  expect  the 
abolition  of  duns." 

"I  object  to  the  anatomy  of  the  figure,"  remarked 
Doctor  Mellon.  «• 

"I  object  to  the  mist,"  said  Max:  Who  can  paint  a 
mist?" 

"He  who  aspires  to,  had  better  try  his  'prentice 
hand'  at  a  dew  drop  on  a  rose  leaf.  Mist,  itself,  is  a 
painter  to  the  man  of  fancy,"  said  Emily. 

"It  is;  not  understanding  by  the  term  your  dirty 
English  fog.  The  true  creative  mist  is  not  city- 
begotten,  neither  does  it  canopy  the  level  landscape, 
but  it  dwells  in  the  pure  air  of  the  mountains." 

"  Then  you  have  seen  some  of  its  finest  works,"  said 
Emily. 

"I  have;  in  a  "Californian  winter.  Sometimes,  at 
night,  I  would  steal  apart  from  the  glare  and  noises  of 
the  camp,  and,  climbing  an  overhanging  hill,  listen  to 
the  surging  of  the  troubled  water  that  rolled  beneath,  a 
solitary  sound  deepening  the  silence,  and  gaze  upon  the 
shifting  imagery  of  mist,  that  rose  and  sunk  along  the 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT  HOME.  315 

mountain  sides.  Rose  and  sunk  in  shapes  fair  and  fan 
tastic — alternating — contrasting — mingling;  the  grace 
ful  curves  of  classic  sculpture;  domes  richly  robust; 
the  fretted  spire,  lifting  itself  in  air;  arch;  temple; 
tower;  cataracts,  converted  in  their  fall  to  stony  immo 
bility  ,  art-created  forms  of  past  and  present ;  nature's 
wildest  aspects;  grey,  all  grey  and  ghastly,  in  the 
vapor-filtered  moonlight." 

"  To  turn  from  the  palette  to  the  lyre — they  say  that 
Funeman's  last  volume  has  taken,"  said  Emily. 

"So!  Is  Funeman  among  the  poets?"  inquired  Max, 
in  a  tone  of  solicitude. 

"It  is  the  muse's  livery,  I  believe,"  replied  Emily,  as 
she  handed  Heyhurst  a  book  from  the  table  beside  her, 
as  gaudy  as  a  Dutch  tulip. 

"Urn — a  portrait.  Funeman  risible — Thalia  couch 
ing  at  his  mouth.  Hear  this — 'The  Catfish  Crier's 
Complaint.'  " 

"Sorry  to  object,  but  don't  read  it!"  exclaimed 
Doctor  Mellen,  alarmed  by  a  preparatory  gurgle  in 
Max's  throat. 

"I  will  not;  I  wouldn't  distress  anybody.  Benevo 
lence  was  my  foster-brother." 

"  To  ascend  from  Funeman  to  the  gods — When  shall 
we  have  a  song  that  will  leap  to  the  national  heart,  and 
make  it  throb  applause  in  the  spirit  of  a  higher  than  a 
bloodletting  heroism.  A  martyred  missionary  is.  far 
more  deserving  of  song  than  was  Sir  John  Moore.  In 
this  matter,  poets  lackey  to  the  brutal  adulation  of  the 
mob,  and  the  partiality  of  Laura  Matilda  for  a  uni- 


316  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

form.  It  is  not  the  immortal  in  them  which  sings" 
said  Emily. 

"Is  not  Campbell's  'Mariners  of  England'  potent  tc 
excite  the  circulation  ?"  asked  Max. 

"Yes,  as  a  bottle  of  brandy  is,  unhealthily.  Every 
drunken  Englishman  is  a  sea-king,  and  fights  Trafalgar 
over  again.  Campbell  was  a  true  poet,  and  wrote 
better  than  that.  The  Farewell  to  Kemble,  though  the 
theme  was  not  high,  is  much  better  poetry." 

"Campbell  is  certainly  compact,  polished,  and  a 
poet. — So  you  are  a  non-resistant,  Miss  Horton?"  said 
Max. 

"The  more  christianized  a  man  becomes,  the  nearer 
he  approaches  the  posture  of  non-resistance.  Non- 
resistance  is  the  spirit  of  the  gospel  of  our  Lord.  All 
men  recognize  this  when  they  are  revolted  at  preacher- 
fighters.  Everybody  feels  that  a  bellicose  bishop  is  not 
a  servant  of  Jesus  Christ.  Yet  why  should  a  layman 
not  be  as  perfect  as  a  bishop,  according  to  his  measure 
of  light?  Now,  all  divine  light  is  in  its  nature  the 
same,  whether  it  be  in  a  blacksmith  or  a  bishop.  We 
are  commanded,  in  the  Gospel,  to  be  perfect,  even  as 
our  Father  in  heaven  is  perfect.  What,  then,  are  the 
perfections  of  War?  Cupidity,  revenge,  bad-faith,  out 
rages  upon  the  person,  spoliation  of  industry,  ravage  of 
nature,  desecration  of  sanctities,  destruction  of  life, 
maimings,  political  corruption,  private  malice,  fraud  in 
business,  impurity  of  thought,  forgetfulness  of  Goa, 
pauperism,  intemperance,  and  arrogance." 

"I  believe  that  one  man  may  rightfully  slay  another 
ill  strict  self-defence  when  driven  to  the  last  wall,  or  for 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  817 

the  protection  of  the  virtue  of  a  woman,"  said  Hey- 
hurst. 

"I  read  the  'Corsai'r'  when  I  was  a  supercargo,  and  I 
thought  it  very  good,"  observed  Bloker. 

"What  did  Byron  want  with  that  'young  earth 
quake'  in  his  Alpine  thunder-storm  by  night;  and 
what  is  a  'young  earthquake,'  since  one  full  grown 
only  lives  a  few  seconds?  But  I'm  no  poet,"  said 
Doctor  Mellen. 

"It  is  a  patch  on  the  face  of  beauty.  The  poet  who 
could  make  the  hues  of  an  Italian  sunset  instil  the 
deep-dyed  Brenta  with 

'The  odorous  purple  of  a  new-born  rose;' 

who  could  show  us  the  tide-tossed  hand  of  Selim 
menacing  the  shrieking  sea-birds;  was  rich -enough  in 
imagery  to  disdain  even  fresh-littered  convulsions  of 
nature,"  said  iley hurst. 

"As  there  are  shallows  in  the  sea,  so  the  greatest 
poet  will  sometimes  shoal  upon  a  rigorous  criticism," 
said  Emily. 

"Indisputable:  and  a  lax  criticism  too.  With  what 
avidity  Shakespeare  in  his  noble  flights  swoops  some 
poor  quibble.  Laertes,  after  the  pathetic  and  pic 
turesque  description  by  the  queen  of  the  drowning  01 , 
Ophelia,  forbids  his  tears  because  his  sister  has ,  too 
much  water — Juliet,  just  after  the  vehement  soliloquy 
in  which  she  adjures  the  night,  misled  by  the  nurse's 
ambiguous  reference  to  Tybalt  and  thinking  Romeo 
slain,  plays  fantastic  variations  on  the  letter  I,"  said 
Hey  hurst. 
27* 


318  THE   HOETONS;    OB 

"A  little  poetry  in  long  intervals,  like  mushrooms 
once  or  twice  a  year,  is  well  enough;  but  what,  after 
all,  does  it  for  us?"  asked  Bloker. 

"Does  it  for  us!"  replied  Heyhurst;  "it  makes  pro 
gress  in  society  possible,  by  inspiring  us  with  an  ambi 
tion  to  reach  in  life  the  ideal  excellence  which  it  pre 
sents.  The  spirit  of  poetry  enters  into  patriotism — it 
is  the  source  of  exalted  actions  and  characters.  Bene 
volence  is  full  of  the  afflatus.  In  poetry  the  common 
is  forgotten — by  the  highest  poetry  the  sensual  is 
depressed.  It  ennobles  the  pursuits  and  objects  of 
every-day  life,  by  investing  them  with  the  attrac 
tions  of  fancy  and  the  refinement  of  taste*.  It  height 
ens  pleasure,  and  diminishes  pain.  It  connects  the 
ages,  and  makes  the  heroism  of  the  past  tribu 
tary  to  that  of  yesterday.  Florence  Nightingale  is 
a  nobler  object  of  rational  Christian  contemplation 
than 

'Divine  Scamander  purpled  yet  with  blood.' 

It  is  the  expression  of  the  natural  piety  of  the  human 
heart  from  the  dawn  of  history.  It  is  Magnanimity 
and  Devotion — love  of  man,  and  praise  to  God.  The 
Christian  Poet  is  a  new  man  who  lays  his  ear  close  to 
the  heart  of  nature,  and  hears  in  its  rhythm  the  voice 
of  the  Almighty.  And  the  pagan  conqueror  who 
ravened  an  empire  from  Darius,  respected  the  house 
of  Pindar." 

"Some  of  our  best  prose  has  been  written  by  our 
best  poets,"  said  Emily. 

"It  has.     Milton's   controversies   and  Dry  den's  pre- 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT   HOME.  319 

faces  are  models  of  English,  and  Cowper  is  never  more 
graceful  and  tender  than  in  his  Letters." 

"Speaking  of  letters—"  said  Doctor  Mellen,  address 
ing  Max,  "I  received  one  the  other  day  from  Professor 
Berzelius  Eetort,  in  which  he  undertakes  to  controvert 
my  theory  of  metallic  bases.  I  am  getting  up  a  reply, 
which  I  shall  publish.  Some  afternoon,  when  you 
have  leisure  and  inclination,  I  will  allow  you  to  read 
both." 

A  dozen  talking  and  laughing  groups  have  been 
formed  and  dissolved,  and  Bloker  and  Emily  Horton 
are  together  in  the  conservatory.  At  the  further  end 
a  lady  with  the  folds  of  her  fragile  dress  caught  in  a 
lemon  tree  i»  being  extricated  by  her  gallant.  These 
pass  out,  and  the  former  are  left  alone. 

"And  you  hear  nothing  of  Jane  Warner?" 

"Not  a  syllable.  I  have  prosecuted  a  diligent  search 
in  all  probable  quarters  hereabout,  including  the  insane 
asylums,  public  and  private.  To  the  latter  I  have  been 
in  person;"  and  Bloker  enumerated  them. 

"Then  we  are  baffled  still — What  do  you  pro 
pose?" 

"To  search  on.  My  heart  is  in  the  inquiry — may  I 
not  say  sympathetically  and  hopefully  with  another's?" 
Bloker  looked  his  meaning  at  Emily,  and  found  her 
regarding  him  with  a  countenance  which  showed  no 
displeasure. 

"I  wish,  my  dear  Miss  Horton,  you  could  understand 
my  entire  willingness  to  walk  the  world  at  your  com 
mand  with  benefactions  1" 


320  THE   HOETONS;    OR 

% 

"O,  of  course,  I  can't  understand  it,"  replied  Emily, 
pleasantly  and  in  some  confusion. 

"You  are  not  above  learning  to,  I  hope — say  you 
are  not  averse  to  learn!" 

"Sure,  good  instructions  are  alms-deeds — They  are 
coming  here  from  the  supper-room;  let  us  walk." 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME. 


321 


CHAPTEE    XXXVIII. 

I  sometimes  wonder  at  the  incredulity  of  good  people  when  they  hear 
of  unusual  outrages  for  gain;  for  if  they  would  but  consult  their  own 
experience  they  would  perceive  gold  to  be  the  most  persuasive  of  ora 
tors. 


PON  the  return  of  Emily  to  Daven 
port's  she  was  shown  the  envelope 
which  was  found  by  Farmer  Gregg, 
and  made  acquainted  with  its  his 
tory.  Of  oourse  it  occasioned  much 
speculation.  The  superscription  had 
been  confidently  identified  by  Frank 
as  the  writing  of  his  sister.  He  was 
a  sharp  observer,  accustomecLto  her 
penmanship,  and  not  accustomed  to 
that  of  other  people.  This,  in  Farmer  Gregg's  view, 
was  not  conclusive  as  to  the  correctness  of  the  lad's 
opinion;  for,  he  observed,  he  had  "known  droviers 
recollect  a  beast's  make  a  year  with  only  seeing  it 
once,  and  dealing  all  the  time,  when  its  owner  couldn't 
have  picked  it  out  of  "a  lot."  Concerning  the  intended 
destination  of  the  letter,  however,  there  could  be  no 
question ;  the  address  was  plain  enough. 

While  the  perplexity  was  being  discussed,  Bradley 
and  George  Dolman  drove  up.    Dolman  was  a  lawyer, 


322  THE  HORTONS;    OB 

and  the  matter  was  at  once  submitted  to  him  as  a  per 
son  trained  to  scrutinize.  The  particulars  of  the 
inquiry  Bloker  had  directed  were  told,  and  the  worthy 
Gregg  assumed  his  wisest  look,  satisfied  that  in  the 
flood  of  light  expected  all  objections  to  his  cher 
ished  hypothesis  of  the  wind  must  disappear. 

"If  we  grant  the  writing  to  be  identified  as  this 
lady's,  whence  came  it  where  it  was  found?  Now, 
there  is  no  blemish  nor  inaccuracy  in  the  superscrip 
tion  itself  to  account  for  its  rejection  by  the  writer: 
that  is  the  first  and  a  slight  consideration.  Was  the 
envelope  discarded  by  the  writer,  that  she  (supposing 
the  sex)  might  add  an  afterthought  to  the  letter?  I 
think  not ;  for,  notice  how  cleanly  it  has  been  cut ;  yet 
the  postage  stamp  is  still  upon  it — is  it  likely  a  person, 
with  a  knife  at  hand,  j^o  careful  in  the  one  respect, 
would  have  been  careless  in  the  other?  The  enve 
lope  has  not  gone  through  the  post-office,  for  it  is 
without  mark.  But  see,  here  is  something  which  has 
escaped  your  attention,  or  to  which  you  have  attached 
no  importance — some  apothecary's  characters  in  pencil. 
It  seems  to  be  a  hasty  calculation — f3vi==3ii  ss=m 
67-4841. 

"The  numerals  don't  quite  multiply  to  the  result. 
Perhaps  the  double  s  makes  it — what  does  it  stand 
for?"  said  Bradley. 

"  I  don't  know — an  abbreviation,  I  suppose — solution 
of  scorpions,  may  be — and  it  don't  matter  for  the  rea 
soning.  This  pencilling  was  not  the  person's  who  wrote 
the  address;  nor  was  it  done  before  the  address  was 
written,  for  a  part  of  it  is  under  the  cut.  Again,  it  is 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT  HOME.  323 

probable  it  was  not  done  remote  from  the  spot  where 
the  envelope  was  found,  for  that  is  fresh  and  clean,  and 
as  the  country  has  been  wet  of  late  it  could  not  have 
been  blown  far  xinsoiled.  Nor,  for  the  same  reason, 
can  it  have  been  long  exposed  to  the  weather." 

The  complacency  in  the  visage  of  Farmer  Gregg 
abated  to  a  dead  calm. 

"Apothecaries  are  not  numerous  in  the  country," 
continued  Dolman,  "and,  doubtless,  drugs  are  com 
pounded  at  the  asyluln  near  which  this  envelope  was 
found.  There  was  no  evidence  of  the  missing  girl's 
insanity,  you  tell  me,  up  to  the  time  of  her  disappear 
ance.  All  that  follows,  then,  is  supposition,  based  on 
her  melancholy.  Her  relatives  are  poor,  and  unable 
to  pay  the  charges  of  a  private  asylum  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Emily. 

"She  had  no  prospective  interest  in  property?" 

"No." 

"And  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  she  has 
been  spirited  away  for  a  sinister  purpose  by  an  ac 
quaintance? — I  believe  you  spoke  of  her  appearance 
as  being  sprightly  and  pleasing." 

"Not  that  I  know.  And  I  feel  very  sure  that  she 
will  not  be  found  at  this  place,  for  I  recollect  Mr. 
Bloker  mentioned  Norey's  as  one  of  the  asylums  he 
had  visited  in  person,  fruitlessly." 

"How  long  since?" 

"Within  a  fortnight." 

"That  fact  furnishes  a  presumption  against  my 
inference.  Still,  she  may  have  been  confined  there 


824  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

since  his  visit;  removed,  we  will  say,  from  some  other 
place — assuming  that  she  is  restrained." 

"You  seem  to  think  it's  not  certain  she's  shut  up 
somewhere,  sir,"  remarked  Mrs.  Davenport,  a  little 
disappointed. 

"  The  evidence  of  it  is  circumstantial,  and  not  at  all 
conclusive." 

"Well  do  I  remember,  when  a  girl,  being  at  cousin 
Debby  Shute's  in  harvest,  and  Paul  Gurney,  who  had 
been  chained  mad  in  the  county-house  eighteen  years, 
breaking  out.  He  got  into  the  woods,  and  they  didn't 
capture  him  for  nearly  a  week.  They  said  he  had  an 
axe,  and  we  women  folks  was  dreadful  scared,  and 
even  the  men  went  to  bed  with  their  scythes.  It  was 
the  year  of  Mungo  Brown's  prophecy  of  the  end  of 
the  world.  One  of  the  Boyles  drowned  herself  in  a 
well  the  day  he  set,  which  was  the  sixteenth  of 
August,  and  a  terrible  thunder-storm,"  said  the  old 
lady.  She  was  about  to  proceed  with  her  reminis 
cences,  when,  turning  her  head,  she  perceived  Frank's 
distress,  and  paused  to  comfort  him  aside. 

"Can  Miss  "Warner  have  been  in  possession  of  a 
secret  which  would  criminate  some  one?"  speculated 
Dolman. 

"Are  people  smuggled  into  mad-houses  for  that 
reason — is  such  an  atrocity  possible?"  asked  the  old 
clerk,  with  vehemence. 

"Possible,  sir!  Yes;  and  of  not  unfrequent  occur 
rence.  It  is  only  a  rarer  shape  of  the  advantage  which 
the  gold  of  vice  gets  over  honest,  unfriended  poverty. 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME.  325 

Some  have  been  kept  so  imprisoned  with  the  means 
of  which  they  had  been  previously  defrauded." 

"Why  is  it  not  made  impossible?"  urged  Davenport. 

"It  will  be  when  our  legislators  are  chiefly  virtuous 
men,  and  vigilant — not  this  alone,  but  a  score  of  equal 
evils.  But  there  is  no  bribe  in  this  sort  of  legislation," 
replied  Dolman. 

"It  were  best  to  consult  with  Mr.  Bloker."  said 
Emily. 

"I  confess  I  never  had  any  liking  for  Bloker,"  said 
Bradley;  "to  my  thinking,  the  man  has  ambiguous 
ways.  Once,  at  least,  he  was  not  this  lady's  friend,  and 
I  do  not  entirely  credit  his  sudden  conversion." 

"That  was  long  ago,"  replied  Emily;  "and  I  have 
reason  to  believe  the  letter  which  irritated  him  was 
unnecessarily  caustic.  But  upon  this  inquiry  I  know 
he  has  entered  zealously,  and  prosecuted  it  with  not  a 
little  expenditure  of  money.  And  what  ground  have 
you  for  intimating  that  he  is  unprincipled?" 

"In  part,  your  own  distrust  of  him  heretofore,  which 
seems  to  have  departed. 

"  So  there  was  a  letter — about  what  ?"  asked  Dolman. 

The  incident  of  the  rejection  of  Bloker's  gratuity 
after  the  death  of  Captain  Warner  was  recounted, 
together  with  circumstances  that  indicated  his  anger 
thereat;  and  Dolman  continued: 

"  This  may,  or  may  not  justify  us  in  arraigning  Mr. 
Bloker's  integrity;  I  know  too  little  of  the  man's  prin 
ciples  and  temper  $o  determine.  But  it  is  a  maxim  of 
games  to  take  the  trick  if  you  doubt.  This  gentleman, 
1  think,  should  be  left  out  in  the  initial  proceedings;  in 
28 


326  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

short,  until  we  can  see  further — if  Miss  Horton  will 
pardon  a  seeming  want  of  gallantry  in  a  lawyer's  sug 
gestion." 

"I  agree  with  you.  What  is  your  plan  of  action?" 
asked  Bradley. 

"I  propose  to  associate  Heyhurst  with  us;  we  will 
then  go  together  to  the  asylum,  and  in  a  confident 
manner  request  an  interview  with  Miss  Warner.  This 
certainly  will  not  be  granted,  but  we  may  learn  some 
thing  by  the  character  of  the  reply  and  our  own  obser 
vation.  We  will  then  set  a  watch  on  the  premises — if 
you  consent,  Heyhurst  and  yourself — while  Mr.  Gregg, 
Frank,  and  I  go  before  one  of  the  judges  and  procure  a 
habeas  corpus." 

"I  approve  of  the  arrangement,  for  I  think  a  bold 
push  with  precaution  better  than  tedious  strategy. 
Will  it  suit  your  convenience,  Mr.  Gregg?" 

"There's  nothing  to  hinder  that  can't  be  put  off — 
and  I'm  not  sorry  it  has  turned  out  sort  of  supernatu 
ral,  but  I  won't  let  on  to  mother." 

"Well,  to-morrow,  then,  we  will  proceed,"  said  Dol 
man. 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME. 


327 


CHAPTEK   XXXIX. 

"It  is  no  affair  of  ours!"  is  a  common  colloquial  disclaimer  with  two 
very  different  classes  of  people — the  selfishly  bad,  and  the  timidly  good. 
Every  wanton  injury  to  the  soul,  the  mind,  or  the  body  of  a  fellow-being, 
no  matter  how  mean  is  his  estate,  is  the  "affair"  of  the  virtuous,  whe 
ther  they  be  considered  as  men,  as  Christians,  or  as  citizens. 

HE  morning  and  George  Dolman  were 
recognized   together    by   Max    Hey- 
hurst,   who  was  awaked  by  the  en 
trance  of  the  latter. 
"Hallo!     What's  up? 

'What  misadventure  is  so  early  up, 
That  calls  our  person  from  our  morning  rest?'" 

"Come!  off  of  Shakespeare's  stilts 
and  out  of  bed;  for  you  are  to  play 
the  knight-errant  this  day  in  the  res 
cue  of  an  imprisoned  lady." 

"Then  you  must  lend  me  a  clean  shirt.     The  lajin- 
dress  don't  bring  my  wash  till  this  afternoon,  and  I 
thought  meantime  to  keep  in  the  cage,  and  give  a  little 
tone  to  the  head  of  Darius  the  Persian." 
"If  you  don't  joke,  Max,  I'll  send  for  one." 
"Joke!     You  must  suppose  me  lavish  of  linen — a 
very  Dives.     I  have  been  to  two  evening  crushes  this 
week,  and  have  nothing  presentable  but  a  paper  dicky. 


328  THE    HOPvTOXS;    Oft 

I  cannot  consent  to  sally  forth  for  the  benefit  of  dis 
tressed  beauty  in  a  paper  dicky  —  Don  Quixote 
wouldn't  have  done  it." 

They  took  up  Bradley,  and  drove  to  Henry  Daven 
port's.  At  the  appearance  of  Farmer  Gregg,  armed 
with  a  stout,  warty  stick,  and  with  his  unique  beaver 
worn  back  in  a  resolute  way,  Max  inquired  of  Dolman 
in  a  whisper,  "If  that  was  his  idea  of  the  Bayards  and 
the  Herberts,  or  whether  his  friend  was  a  head-keeper 
out  of  employment?"  Mrs.  Davenport  had  Frank 
dressed  and  brushed,  and  displayed  in  her  movements 
a  sense  of  unusual  responsibility.  Emily  was  ready  to 
cooperate,  but  not  expectant  of  success.  Soon  the  four 
explorers  were  off,  and  in  due  time  they  arrived  at 
Norey's. 

The  summons  of  the  party  at  the  portal  was  answer 
ed  by  the  Covenanter. 

"We  have  called  to  see  Miss  Jane  Warner,"  began 
Dolman,  with  matter-of-fact  deliberation. 

The  man  brought  his  hard  grey  eye  steadily  to  bear 
on  the  inquirer  for  nearly  a  minute,  and  then  re 
sponded, 

"Well,  do  you  see  her?" 

If  Dolman  had  been  looking  into  a  telescope  for  a 
particular  star,  his  tight-tied  answerer  could  not  have 
exhibited  less  personal  feeling. 

"O,  that  won't  succeed! — we  know  she's  here,"  per 
sisted  Dolman. 

"Give  me  leave!"  said  a  person  broad-set  in  figure 
and  with  a  face  of  inflexible  composure,  as  he  advanced 
and  elbowed  aside  the  official.  "  I  have  remarked  your 


AMERICAN"   LIFE   AT  HOME.  329 

communication,  sir — Have  you  anything  more  to  im 
part?" 

"That  as  it  may  be  when  I  see  the  lady,"  replied 
Dolman,  decisively. 

"If  lam  so  fortunate  as  to  understand  your  reply,  it 
is  tantamount  to  a  negative.  Mr.  Angus  Norey,  there 
fore,  has  the  honor  to  wish  you  a  good-morning!"  and 
bowing,  he  shut  the  gate. 

Upon  this  repulse,  Max  and  Bradley  were  posted  to 
watch  the  house,  and  the  others  repaired  to  the  old 
clerk's  for  Frank,  with  whom  they  proceeded  to  the 
city.  They  found  the  judge  at  chambers,  and  Dolman 
made  application  in  form  for  a  habeas  corpus,  which 
was  granted,  and  made  returnable  the  following  day. 
Mr.  Angus  Norey  then  appeared,  and  declared  under 
oath  that  he  had  control  of  the  person  of  Jane  Warner ; 
that  she  had  been  regularly  committed  to  his  care  by 
her  nearest  adult  relative,  after  an  examination  certified 
by  Doctor  Conium ;  and  that  her  present  condition  was 
such  it  would  be  hazardous  to  produce  her.  In  these 
cases  the  oath  is  based  upon  the  professional  opinion  of 
the  private  mad-house  doctor,  and  if  the  professional 
opinion  of  a  conscientious  physician  does  not  usually 
belong  to  pure  mathematics,  it  may  be  supposed  to 
possess  a  great  scope  of  flexibility.  So  Norey  put  in  a 
medical  affidavit  in  attestation  of  his  account. 

Next  to  the  clerical,  medicine,  though  men  ungrate 
fully  grudge  its  practitioners  both  their  gold  and  their 
applause,  is  the  mosi  humane  and  honorable  of  the  pro 
fessions.  There  need  be  no  falsehood  in  it.  It  has 
given  philanthropy  to  suffering,  genius  to  literature, 
28* 


THE  HOUTONS:   OR 

and  progress  to  science.  If  benefactions  ennoble,  then 
are  its  ministers,  from  Saint  Luke  to  Jenner,  the  heroes 
of  history.  It  has  let  the  light  of  God's  day  into  the 
poor  man's  habitation,  and  driven  pestilence  from  the 
mansions  of  the  rich ;  every  ship  which  sails  the  ocean 
carries  its  benignity ;  it  has  hushed  the  shrieks  of  the 
operating-table;  it  has  lengthened  human  life  in  cities, 
and  made  it  worth  the  lengthening;  it  has  taught  that 
a  physical  education  is  necessary  for  the  future  parents 
of  the  race;  it  daily  sets  ten  thousand  noble  examples 
of  disinterested  patience  in  the  performance  of  duty; 
its  offices  are  often  made  subservient  to  the  cure  of 
souls,  cooperatively  with  the  sacred  ministrations  of 
Christ's  priesthood;  while  it  strengthens  endurance 
with  sympathy,  it  scatters  broadcast  the  amenities ;  it 
turns  from  its  beaten  ways  to  laugh  with  Eabelais,  to 
listen  to  the  muse  of  Schiller,  and  rejoice  in  the  genial 
pleasantry  of  Holmes.  But,  notwithstanding,  if  an 
accomplished,  dissembling,  replete  and  quintessential 
villain  be  required,  physic  can  produce  him! 

To  old  Justice  Fumbleback,  Norey's  return  to  the 
writ,  fortified  as  it  was,  would  have  been  satisfactory, 
and  the  attempt  to  liberate  Jane  Warner  defeated. 
According  to  the  rotation  of  the  court  Fumbleback 
would  have  heard  the  case,  but  he  was  gouty,  and 
opportunely  subjected  to  a  course  of  colchicum  and 
confinement.  Ironbeak  represented  him,  a  wakeful 
magistrate,  who  was  crustier  than  the  old  port  which 
he  liked,  because  it  was  drank  by  the  Templars.  Two 
characteristics  of  Justice  Ironbeak  were  favorable  fbi 
the  applicants ;  there  was  a  touch  of  Timon  under  his 


AMERICAN   LIFE    AT   HOME.  331 

ermine  which  made  him  habitually  suspicious  of  arti 
fice,  and  he  was  very  sensible  to  the  appeals  of  dis 
tressed  childhood.  The  solicitous,  imploring  look  of  the 
young  invalid,  aroused  in  him  a  personal  interest  in  the 
proceedings.  So  he  took  the  trail  of  the  obdurate 
Norey  and  kept  it  with  a  bloodhound's  pertinacity, 
until,  after  questions  and  cross-questions,  he  ventured 
to  conclude  that  the  woman's  infirmities  of  neither 
mind  nor  body  would  be  aggravated  by  her  appearance 
before  him,  which  he  imperatively  directed. 

And  on  the  following  day  she  was  produced,  when 
Mr.  Angus  Norey  declared,  that  he  had  been  instructed 
to  no  longer  prefer  a  claim  to  her  custody.  It  is  pro 
bable  they  who  stood  behind  him,  Bloker  in  chief,  con 
sidered  that  the  hunt  was  growing  too  loud;  and, 
doubtless,  Doctor  Conium  desired  no  conspicuity  in  the 
matter.  That  Norey  himself  wanted  assurance  to  brow 
beat  the  acutest  scrutiny,  or  to  face  a  tumult  of  indig 
nation,  will  not  be  supposed  by  any  one  acquainted 
with  the  small  but  pestilent  class  to  which  he  be 
longed. 

It  is  useless  to  enlarge  on  the  extravagant  joy  of 
Frank  as  he  rode  back  to  Henry  Davenport's  with  his 
flister  beside  him,  free.  Mrs.  Davenport,  when  she 
heard  of  the  release  of  Jane,  and  had  welcomed  her,  not 
indeed,  as  she  expected  to,  in  a  straight-jacket,  was  in 
high  spirits.  The  hospitable  matron  abandoned  her 
self  to  short-cakes,  and  even  forgot  her  hoarded  wisdom, 
a  frailty  of  memory  the  more  wonderful,  that  deaths  in 
the  family  had  failed  to  produce  it.  Serene  satisfac 
tion  sat  enthroned  in  the  face  of  Henry  Davenport. 


332  THE   HORTONS;    OB 

Aunt  Becky  Gregg  was  present;  having  come  ex 
pressly,  fortified  by  a  dream  of  the  skeleton  of  a  mur 
dered  peddler  discovered  directly  under  her  churn  in 
the  milk  cellar,  which  well-scoured  butter-barrel  the 
ghost  had  used,  to  her  consternation  and  disgust,  as  a 
drum — having  come  expressly  to  triumph  with  the  tri 
umphant  supernatural. 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME. 


333 


CHAPTER    XL. 

"\Vell.Moses,"  cried  I,  "we  shall  soon,  my  boy,  have  a  wedding  in 
the  family;  what  is  your  opinion  of  matters  and  things  in  general?" 

VICAR  OF  WAKEFIELD. 

BNEY  DAYENPORT  was  warm  for  a 
suit  against  the  parties  concerned  in 
Jane's  imprisonment,  of  whom  all  now 
suspected  Bloker  to  be  the  principal. 
Dolman  discountenanced  the  design. 
In  the  widely  conflicting  views,  he 
said,  of  the  boundaries  of  insanity,  with 
the  hebetude  of  conservative  Fumble- 
backs  on  the  bench,  Conium's  certifi 
cate,  which  he  would  be  compelled  to 
justify,  and  the  legal  adroitness  which  could  be  pur 
chased  with  Bloker's  gold,  there  was  ample  room  for 
their  escape.  To  illustrate  the  uncertain  solution  of 
such  questions,  he  cited  the  instance  of  a  gentleman 
who  was  held  to  be  crazy  on  the  ground  that  he  recited 
gibberish,  fancying  the  while  that  he  was  speaking  in 
unknown  tongues,  and  carried  weights  about  the  house; 
the  truth  being,  that  the  man  was  acquiring  a  pronun 
ciation  of  the  Hebrew  proper  names  of  the  Bible  and 
exercising  his  muscles  at  the  same  time,  in  his  daily 
ambulations. 


334  THE  HORTONS;   OR 

In  the  quiet  of  the  farm-house,  where  there  was  just 
enough  movement  to  please  a  convalescent  person  tired 
of  watching  the  shadows  of  the  trees  as  they  crept 
noonward  on  the  sward,  the  poultry,  and  the  blinking 
dog  beside  the  porch,  Jane  Warner  recovered  her 
serenity.  Now  and  then,  indeed,  when  she  gazed  on 
Frank  and  thought  of  his  and  her  own  future,  a  cloud 
of  anxiety  would  overcome  her;  but  worthy  Mrs. 
Davenport  on  such  occasions,  divining  the  gloomy 
tenor  of  her  thoughts,  cleared  her  mind  with  cheerful 
words  or  diverting  employment,  imparting  to  her 
cherished  mysteries  of  housekeeping,  in  the  prepara 
tion  of  pickles,  preserves,  and  savory  messes.  Once, 
when  Jane  was  unusually  dejected,  the  friendly  matron 
was  at  the  point  of  exhilarating  her  by  the  production 
of  two  or  three  choice  prescriptions  of  the  German 
wizard;  but  she  recoiled  in  time,  and  put  her  benevo 
lence  on  the  footing  of  a  promised  legacy. 

One  of  the  cab  horses  having  died,  Davenport  had 
bought  a  pair  of  lusty  mules,  and  released  the  survivor 
from  the  drudgery  of  the  field.  Oats,  leisure,  and  pro 
motion  seemed  to  endow  the  quadruped  with  new  life, 
and  he  was  sometimes  observed  to  switch  his  tail  in  a 
dissolute  manner,  as  if  recollections  of  an  obstreperous 
colthood  were  upon  him.  Crockett  was  his  name,  and 
he  knew  the  country  roads  as  well  as  the  Davenports, 
or  Jane,  or  Frank,  who  so  often  rode  behind  him.  Of 
his  own  volition  he  crossed  the  bridges  at  a  walk,  and 
kept  to  the  right  as  the  law  directed;  he  would  have 
scorned  to  bilk  a  turnpike.  The  old  clerk  habitually 
moistened  his  hay  to  keep  off  the  heaves.  Poor 


AMERICAN    LIFE   AT   HOME.  335 

Crockett!  these  were  his  sunny  days.  He  lived  to  help 
fill  one  of  Clanalpin's  famous  contracts,  and  to  endure 
a  purgatory  of  rations  after  the  third  sub-letting.  He 
never  snuffed  the  battle,  but  succumbed  to  seven 
pounds  of  provender  a  day.  Eest  to  his  mouldering 
hoofs  I 

On  a  quiet  country  Sabbath  they  wouM  go  together 
to  the  old  tree-encircled  church.  There  was  a  tran- 
quilizing  shadiness  about  the  house  of  worship,  but 
plenty  of  sunshine  among  the  tombstones  in  the  grassy 
graveyard — allegorical,  perhaps,  of  the  light  of  heaven 
after  the  shadows  of  earth.  Sometimes  the  birds  would 
flit  into  the  very  aisle,  and  chirp  in  unison  with  the 
worshippers.  If  ever  human  face  was  benign,  it  was 
that  Presbyterian  parson's.  Surely  his  altitudes  were 
spiritual  Pisgahs!  There  was  no  grand  music,  and 
there  were  few  grand  words — hardly  ever  anything 
that  sounded  like  Greek  to  the  rural  auditors.  But 
the  grieved  heart  was  comforted,  and  the  seeking  spirit 
satisfied  in  that  old  tree-encircled  church.  'Tis  likely 
the  parson's  place  is  another's  now,  for  he  was  shaken 
with  labors  in  his  Master's  vineyard.  His  cough  was 
ominous.  Death  to  him,  come  when  he  might,  would 
be  a  messenger  of  Love.  Doubtless,  still 

"They  chant  their  artless  notes  in  simple  guise; 
They  tune  their  hearts,  by  far  the  noblest  aim ; 
Perhaps  Dundee's  wild  warbling  measures  rise, 
Or  plaintive  Martyrs,  worthy  of  the  name; 
Or  noble  Elgin  beats  the  heavenward  flame, 
The  sweetest  far  of  Scotia's  holy  lays: 
Compared  with  these,  Italian  trills  are  tame; 
The  tickled  ears  no  heartfelt  raptures  raise; 
Nae  unison  hae  they  with  our  Creator's  praise." 


336  THE  HORTONS;    OB 

A  fortnight  after  the  deliverance  of  Jane,  Emily 
Horton  and  Bloker  met  at  Doctor  Mellen's.  She  bowed 
coldly  in  reply  to  his  salutation,  but  repelled  the  bland 
advance  with  which  he  would  have  followed  it.  He 
started,  and  an  angry  flush  showed  in  his  face. 

"  May  I  ask "  he  began. 

"No,  sir!"  she  quickly  replied,  and  turned  from  him. 
There  was  no  scene.  He  saw  that  a  vehement  tide  was 
against  him — that  his  designs  were  as  a  sum  rubbed  out. 

It  was  evening  twilight,  pensive  hour  sacred  to  old 
memories,  in  Caroline  Mellen's  chamber,  and  thus 
ended  an  earnest  conversation. 

"You  insist,  then,  on  continuing  his  acquaintance. 
I  cannot  subject  myself  to  the  unpleasantness  of  meet 
ing  him  again,"  said  Emily. 

"  You  need  not,  that  I  see,"  replied  Caroline. 

"It  will  be  always  possible  if  he  and  I  come  here." 

"  This,  then,  follows :  that  I  must  surrender  my  free 
will  and  have  my  acquaintanceships  hereafter  depend 
on  the  license  of  a  censor.  I  regard  the  revelation  of 
that  sewing  girl  as  the  purest  vagary  of  fancy.  I 
believe  there  was  a  reason  for  her  being  in  the  asylum, 
and  that  you  did  her  no  good  when  you  took  her  out." 

"  There  we  differ — but  I  do  not  mean  to  debate  the 
question.  I  think  that  the  true  dignity  of  our  sex, 
which  is  purity,  hangs  as  much  on  the  virtue  of  a  sew 
ing  girl  as  upon  that  of  a  princess.  The  women  are 
only  separated  by  the  poor  trappings  of  life,  and  are 
equal  before  God.  I  am  sorry  that  events  have 
brought  us  to  this  night." 

And  so  they  parted. 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT   HOME. 


337 


CHAPTEE   XLI. 


If  we  could,  from  one  of  the  battlements  of  heaven,  espy  how  many 
men  and  women  at  this  time  lie  fainting  and  dying  for  want  of  bread; 
how  many  young  men  are  hewn  down  by  the  sword  of  war;  how  many 
poor  orphans  are  now  weeping  over  the  graves  of  their  father,  by  whose 
life  they  were  enabled  to  eat;  if  we  could  but  hear  how  mariners  and 
passengers  are  at  this  present  in  a  storm,  and  shriek  out  because  their 
keel  dashes  against  a  rock  or  bulges  under  them ;  how  many  people 
there  are  that  weep  with  want,  and  are  mad  with  oppression,  or  are 
desperate  by  too  quick  a  sense  of  constant  infelicity;  in  all  reason  we 
should  be  glad  to  be  out  of  the  noise  and  participation  of  so  many  evils. 
This  is  a  place  of  sorrows  and  tears,  of  so  great  evils  and  a  constant 
calamity:  let  us  remove  from  hence,  at  least,  in  affections  and  prepara 
tion  of  mind. — JEREMY  TAYLOR. 


,  HILE  we  understand  Heaven  to  be 
the  happiness  of  a  spiritual  con 
dition  which  the  good  foretaste 
here,  we  localize  it  in  thought, 
and  conjecture  that  it  has  its 
appropriate  scenery.  The  insub 
stantial  and  sublimated  duplicates 
of  all  that  is  beautiful  in  nature, 
nay,  pleasing  in  art,  may  contri 
bute  to  make  it — brighter  beams, 

rarer  flowers,  bluer  skies,  and  a  celestial  architecture. 

Ainid  these  delightful  surroundings  the  perfected  spirits 
29 


338  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

• 

of  the  just   may   exist,   glorifying   God   in   love  and 
purity. 

Once  more  the  violets  looked  meekly  up  to  catch 
the  smiles  of  their  froward  mistress,  April,  or  hung 
pensive  heads  beneath  her  frowns;  while  the  unfilial 
pyrus  flaunted  in  scarlet,  careless  of  either.  At  The 
Cedars,  under  the  trees,  which  seemed  almost  sentient 
with  the  swell  of  vernal  life,  they  bore  a  coffin  into  the 
old  mansion.  Up  stairs  in  Lydia  Bardleigh's  chamber 
there  was  a  stark  similitude  and  twilight  out  of  time. 
The  uses  and  disorder  of  occupancy  no  longer  charac 
terized  the  room.  The  watch  which  had  ticked  upon 
the  bureau  was  put  aside;  the  medicines,  trays,  and 
napkins  were  removed.  A  Bible  had  been  left,  but 
even  it  was  clasped.  Silently  they  came  and  went; 
acknowledging  that  she  was  with  them  still — and  yet 
alone. — Across  the  threshold  with  measured  steps — 
where  the  robins  will  not  come  to-day  to  seek  the 
generous  crumbs — then  a  short,  dull,  sliding  sound, 
and  the  slow  wheels  go  on  a  space,  and  pause. 

Bradley  returned  to  Brentlands  a  sterner  man 
Though  an  exacting  employer,  as  became  an  accurate 
and  active  man  of  affairs,  he  was  governed  by  au 
innate  love  of  justice.  This  not  only  restrained  him 
from  unfairly  imposing  labor,  but  it  induced  a  humane 
attention  to  the  bodily  wants  of  his  workmen,  both  in 
health  and  sickness;  sound  and  various  food,  clean, 
spacious  and  ventilated  lodgings,  and  a  well-ordered 
hospital,  were  provided  by  him.  He  recoiled  from 
thrusting  a  disabled  servant  naked  upon  the  world. 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  339 

Now  his  rebukes  were  become  keener,  and  his  bearing 
was  grown  austere.  For  himself,  regardless  of  the 
weather,  he  wrought  on  in  his  laborer's  garb.  He  was 
in  the  fields,  in  the  smithy,  among  the  stalls,  or  at  the 
desk,  as  heretofore,  but  a  harsh  and  silent  man.  His 
prospect  was  as  dreary  as  the  South  Atlantic,  where, 
a  dark  and  desert  waste  of  tormented  water,  it  is 
scourged  by  Winter  against  the  scowling  cliffs  of 
Patagonia. 

At  length  he  resolved  to  seek  in  the  bustle  of  a  great 
city  diversion  and  tranquillity;  to  exchange  the  un 
eventful  quiet  of  nature  for  the  pursuit  of  pleasure, 
the  tumult  of  controversy,  and  the  charms  of  intellect, 
where  all  the  sounds  and  shows  of  population  prevail. 
In  such  a  whirl  of  various  occupations,  he  thought  that 
the  recollections  of  the  past  which  distressed  him  could 
be  cast  off;  in  the  vigor  of  youth,  and  stung  by  dis 
appointment,  he  knew,  at  least,  he  would  find  allure 
ments,  if  he  failed  of  happiness.  It  was  his  purpose, 
therefore,  at  the  completion  of  the  ensuing  harvest  to 
relinquish  the  management  of  Brentlands. 

And  so  the  days  went  by,  bringing  sun,  and  shower, 
and  promises  of  ripeness.  Wide  reaches  of  clean 
brown  loam  were  arrayed  with  the  green  and  sturdy 
maize,  some  five  weeks  up;  the  heavy-headed  wheat 
fluctuated  in  yellow  billows;  rank  oats  declared  the 
fertile  slopes  that  nourished  them.  It  was  the  morning 
of  the  twenty-fifth  of  June,  when,  by  one  crushing 
stroke,  all  was  blasted.  Just  before  the  dawn  of  day, 
Bradley  was  awakened  by  a  strong,  cold  wind  which 
blew  upon  him  through  the  open  blinds  of  his  chamber. 


340  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

A  sharp,  rattling  crash  of  thunder  pealed  upon  the 
stillness  of  the  night,  and  then,  in  sudden  tempest, 
came  the  hail! 

Sunrise  smiled  from  a  cloudless  sky,  which,  like  the 
smooth  ocean  pressing  upon  the  wrecks  of  yesterday, 
bore  no  trace  of  treachery — smiled  upon  a  desolation. 
The  mangled  bosom  of  the  green  earth,  the  trampled 
and  shattered  grain,  the  orchards  ravished  of  their  fruit 
and  foliage,  and  the  despoiled  nurseries,  attested  the 
pitiless  smiting  of  the  storm.  The  birds  flitted  in  con 
fusion  and  bewailed  their  riven  habitations,  and  theirs 
was  the  only  voice  of  mourning.  The  world  measures 
calamities  by  their  dignity,  and  has  no  attention  for 
private  griefs;  but  the  population  of  a  war-scourged 
province  or  a  burned  city  is  an  aggregation  of  single 
sufferers. 

One  of  Bradley's  last  acts  at  Brentlands  was  to  bury 
a  favorite  horse  of  his  father's.  "Bock,"  twenty-seven 
years  old  at  the  time  of  his  death,  was  a  tough-con stitu- 
tioned  saddle  sorrel.  Like  some  well-preserved  men 
who  can  look  backward  to  the  psalmist's  figures,  he 
had  acquired  the  art  of  living  with  the  minimum  wear 
and  tear  of  life.  For  some  years  he  had  done  nothing 
but  graze  upon  an  ample  range  in  summer  and  stand 
or  lie  in  his  well-littered  winter  stall,  where  the  rack 
was  never  empty;  except  when  his  master  had  made 
infrequent  visits  to  the  place,  when  he  was  sometimes 
bridled  for  his  service.  The  merchant  declared  that 
his  record  was  without  a  stumble.  The  fall  before, 
"  Rock"  had  got  a  wound,  an  ugly  gash  eight  or  ten 
inches  in  length,  luckily  where  there  was  a  fair  pro- 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  841 

tection  of  muscles.  This  it  was  thought  would  prove 
fatal,  but  upon  being  stitched  it  healed,  and  the  old 
horse  was  soon  again  in  ballast,  his  mane  and  tail 
prickly  with  the  fresh-gathered  sandburs.  He  passed 
the  winter  well,  and,  though  his  eye  was  a  little  dull, 
and  his  ribs  could  be  counted  in  the  sunshine,  it  seemed 
that  you  might  notch  thirty  on  his  manger  and  safely 
call  it  a  prophecy.  It  was  on  a  dismal  October  after 
noon,  when,  with  a  sort  of  human  impulse,  he  came  from 
the  field  to  die.  There  was  no  evidence  that  he  was  in 
pain,  nor  of  any  ailment  except  the  years.  He  died  in 
the  night,  while  the  rain  pattering  on  the  roof  made  a 
soothing  monotone  in  the  great  hollow  of  the  barn. 
Next  day,  when  the  storm  had  ceased,  Bradley  had  a 
pit  dug  in  the  orchard — dug  deep,  to  balk  the  hounds. 
"Kock"  was  brought  on  wheels — that  much  was  due 
him — and  put  beneath  the  clay.  The  spieading  pear- 
main,  which  will  lie  light  in  summer  shadows  above 
him,  will  be  the  greener  for  his  grave. 

29* 


842 


THE  HORTONS;  OB 


CHAPTEE   XLII. 


Nor  is  it  well,  nor  can  it  come  to  good, 
That,  through  profane  and  infidel  contempt 
Of  holy  writ,  she  has  presum'd  t'  annul 
And  abrogate,  as  roundly  as  she  may, 
The  total  ordinance  and  will  of  God; 
Advancing  fashion  to  the  post  of  truth, 
And  cent'ring  all  authority  iif  modes 
And  customs  of  her  own,  till  sabbath  ritea 
Have  dwindled  into  unrespected  forms, 
And  knees  and  hassocs  are  well  nigh  divorc'd. 

THE  TASK. 


PRESIDENT  is  to  be  elected.  Eu 
rope  listens  to  the  tumult  of  a 
heterodox  politics,  and  even  John 
Bull,  paragon  of  animals,  wipes  the 
beer  from  his  sprightly  visage,  and 
condescends  to  bellow  contempt. 

Bradley  Horton  was  now  become  a 
citizen  of  New  York,  into  which  he 
entered  a  stranger.  He  found  it  a 
metropolis  where  life  presented  many  phases,  as  it  was 
variously  devoted  to  traffic,  knowledge,  art,  ambition, 
ostentation,  and  folly.  He  found  some  who  were 
occupied  with  their  own  devices,  and  others  with  the 
devices  and  destiny  of  the  world  at  large,  arid  not  a 


AMERICAN  LIFE   AT   HOME.  343 

few  who  were  torn  of  devils.  He  beheld  Commerce 
fluttering  about  his  altars,  and  Pleasure  garlanding  her 
cup:  now  he  communed  with  some  rare  ancient,  per 
haps  an  Elizabethan  whom  Elia  loved,  at  the  Astor; 
and  then,  in  the  saloon  at  midnight,  noted  how  hope 
deluded  folly  still  from  the  bottom  of  a  faro-box. 
He  heard  the  dirty  and  disreputable  Funk  inton 
ing  on  his  perch  allurements  to  pinchbeck,  and  the 
cadences,  suasive  and  silvery,  of  the  priest  in  spot 
less  linen.  In  the  same  hour  he  passed  from  the 
elegant  tranquillity  of  a  breakfast  at  Delmonico's  to  the 
hum  and  movement  of  the  Exchange  at  Whitehall — 
from  pacing  the  cool  morning  flags  of  the  stately 
avenue,  or  the  solitary  labyrinth  of  the  breezy  park,  to 
the  wheel-clashing  ways  where  the  chimes  of  Trinity 
buffet,  like  strong  swimmers  of  the  upper  air,  the  sea 
of  uproar  which  billows  from  the  town ;  only  less  loud 
than  the  noisy  anarchy  of  Chaos  which  smote  the  ear 
of  the  exploring  fiend  at  pause  on  the  brink  of  hell. 

After  a  period  of  sight-seeing'  and  idleness,  Bradley 
was  engaged  to  write  up  the  "Keynote" — it  was  so 
settled  with  Cochin  Neal,  the  publisher,  over  ante 
meridian  hock  at  the  Blue  Wing.  He  was  expected  to 
produce  quantity,  sound,  and  coarse  pungency,  to 
gether  with  humor  in  a  set  of  dictionary  words,  rather 
than  elaboration.  These  are  the  characteristics,  for  the 
most  part,  of  first-rate  American  newspaper  editorials. 
With  perhaps  a  score  of  exceptions,  our  able  editors  are 
high-reaching  polemics,  superficially  "smart,"  outlaws 
from  syntax,  without  scholarly  exactness  and  literary 
elegance,  whose  matter  is  spumous,  and  whose  looms 


344  THE    HORTONS;    OR 

produce  only  gunny  when  they  mean  to  weave  velvet. 
But  this  is  a  young  country,  and  they  will  probably 
improve. 

.  The  editor  of  the  "  Keynote"  had  many  opportunities 
to  admire  the  Radical  worthies  who  vie  with  each  other 
to  promote  their  country's  good.  They  rented  halls, 
and  bought  coal  oil  for  illuminations  by  the  barrel — 
with  the  assessments  of  the  party.  They  went  about  to 
circumvent  the  adversary  with  documents  and  declama 
tion.  Some  invested  their  capital  in  the  canvass,  as 
they  would  have  invested  it  in  corn,  hoping  for  a  pro 
fitable  return  in  offices  and  contracts.  No  alchemy 
could  assimilate  these  to — neither  badge  nor  shibboleth 
would  indentify  them  with  many  wise,  earnest,  and 
conscientious  men  who  acted  with  them.  For  months 
the  "Keynote"  was  prolonged  in  a  strain  of  appeals  and 
animadversions,  like  the  creak  of  an  ungreased  axle. 
If  voters  were  not  converted  it  was  their  misfortune, 
for  Bradley  never  allowed  a  topic  to  wither  for  want 
of  "copy."  He  was  as 'sweet  as  Hybla  for  his  friends, 
and  as  bitter  as  Marah  for  the  enemy.  Alas!  the  lost 
books  of  Livy  are  not  less  accessible  than  is  the  "  Key 
note"  now.  The  last  number  which  its  editor  saw,  and 
which  contained  his  strongest  article  in  behalf  of  civil 
liberty,  was  beneath  the  spectacles  of  his  laundress,  who 
was  laboriously  spelling  over  its  contents.  It  had  in 
vested  the  foul  linen  of  a  censorious  fellow-citizen  who 
was  restrained  in  Fort  Rochambeau,  till  he  should 

* rebate  and  blunt  his  natural  edge." 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME. 


345 


CHAPTER   XLIII. 

The  rogues  were  very  merry  on  the  booty.     They  said  a  thousand 
things  that  showed  the  wickedness  of  their  morals. — GIL  BLAS. 

HE  rebellion  came — begotten  child  of 
Mammon, 

" the  least  erected  spirit  that  fell 

From  heaven." 

Behind  the  awful  aspects  of  the  war 
there  was  a  greedier  scramble,  a  baser 
grovelling  for  gold  than  in  the  less 
profitable  days  of  peace.  Clanalpin 
was  in  power,  and  Expectation  Biles 
was  his  Chief  Armorer.  It  will  be  seen  that  Biles  had 
risen.  Tumultuous  eras  are  the  opportunities  of  great 
ness,  and  Thomas  Carlyle's  "French  Revolution"  may 
be  had  of  all  respectable  booksellers.  Great,  like  other 
men,  must  have  beginnings.  Even  Clanalpin  was  not 
always  a  councillor  of  the  earth.  So  Biles  had  ripened 
to  Chief  Armorer;  and  there  was  a  Camp  Biles,  and 
there  was  a  gunboat  christened  Expectation  Biles. 

What  countless  pruning-hooks  were  beaten  into 
spears  to  fill  the  contracts  that  were  lavished  by  Cla 
nalpin!  There  was  a  premium  on  shoddy.  Ancient 
hangers,  that  had  been  last  drawn  at  the  command  of 


346  THE   HOKTONSj    OR 

Mad  Anthony,  were  hunted  from  their  hiding-places. 
Prodigious  orders  were  given  for  castor  oil  and  linen 
pantaloons.  How  delightful  were  those  Washington 
nights  in  "The  King,"  where  the  smell  of  villainous 
gunpowder  was  unknown,  while  the  ear  was  soothed 
by  the  rustling  of.  treasury  notes  and  the  trickling  of 
perennial  punch!  Placid  hours!  coffers  not  coffins 
received  your  fruits.  That  "Ring"! 

"  When  the  treasury  failed — and  the  people  storm'd, 

They  bore  the  brunt — 

And  the  only  cry  which  their  grave  lips  form'd 
Was  ' blunt'— still  'blunt!'" 

Last  of  all  the  expressions  of  that  period  to  be  for 
gotten,  was  the  great  horse-fair  at  Hepzidam.  To  say 
that  it  was  never "  equalled,  is  feeble  description ;  it 
never  was  approached!  At  Hepzidam  the  Clanalpin 
influence  was  predominant.  There  were  many  rogues 
at  Hepzidam,  who  carried  sweat-cloths  in  their  carpet 
bags;  and  the  honest  part  of  the  people  dealt,  when 
times  were  dull,  in  counterfeit  quarter- dollars.  Horse 
contracts  were  likewise  currency  at  Hepzidam. 

If  it  had  been  meant  to  establish  a  veterinary  hospi 
tal,  instead  of  to  furnish  forth  the  dragoons  and  artil 
lery,  there  could  not  have  been  completer  success. 
There  were  trembling  knees  and  capped  hocks ;  broken 
wind  and  botts;  tumors  and  ulcers;  spavin,  consump 
tion,  and  staggers;  and  a  dreadful  concert  of  roaring 
and  wheezing.  There  were  horses  that  balked,  and 
horses  that  bit.  Some  were  decrepit,  others  blind; 
some  were  wall-eyed,  others  had  lost  their  tails.  The 
external  appearance  of  most  of  the  animals  was  of  a 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  847 

piece  with  their  sanitary  state,  nor  was  either  much 
improved  by  deficient  provender.  The  vermiparous 
condition  which  was  apparent  might  reasonably  have 
been  excused,  it  was  so  little  premature.  The  atmos 
phere  was  surcharged  with  asafoetida,  and  drenches  of 
black  pepper  and  whiskey  were  in  constant  readiness 
fox  sudden  gripes.  The  most  distressing  part  of  the 
spectacle  was  the  fresh  arrivals  of  misery.  They  came 
from  the  four  quarters  and  were  accompanied  by  needy 
politicians,  subordinates  of  the  more  fortunate  contract- 
holders — postmasters,  village  editors,  tax-collectors, 
township  constables,  decayed  good  fellows.  Mingled 
with  these  were  prosperous  farmers,  wide  awake  to 
their  opportunities  and  sound  on  the  "anaconda."  Mr. 
Potteril  of  New  Paradise  was  also  present  with  an 
ancient  gelding,  adapted  by  his  favorite  process  to  the 
short-ration  system  which  prevailed. 

Clanalpin  had  come  down  by  an  express  train  and 
moved  briskly  about,  the  admired  of  all  beholders; 
inciting  with  his  gold-headed  cane  a  friend's  sluggish 
nag,  now  and  then,  to  the  moderate  amount  of  move 
ment  required  by  the  inspection.  He  was  attended  by 
the  Chief  Armorer.  It  was  a  study  for  high  horse  art, 
the  Chief  Armorer  a  tiptoe,  looking — a  cyclopaedia  of 
farriery  in  his  countenance — looking  through  his  spec 
tacles  into  the  mouth  of  a  new  arrival !  Bradley  unex 
pectedly  met  Doctor  Pledget,  who  seemed  desirous  to 
elude  observation,  and  appeared  to  be  dejected.  He 
was  in  search  of  a  valuable  gray  which  had  been  stolen 
from  him.  He  deeply  regretted,  he  said,  the  inconsid- 
erateness  which  had  brought  him  with  a  hue  and  cry 


848  THE  HOKTONS;      OB 

to  Ilepzidam.  He  regarded  the  journey  as  the  sever 
est  stroke  of  satire  to  which  he  had  ever  been  sub 
jected. 

Jacob  Bicker's  star  was  now  above  the  horizon. 
Bloker  owned  ships  and  steamboats,  in  whole  or  in 
part,  some  of  them  mere  sieves  plugged  to  float,  and  the 
Administration  paid  him  for  the  use  of  them  the  reve 
nue  of  an  Asiatic  prince.  With  this  great  income  he 
bought  farms  and  factories,  and  speculated  in  gold. 
Jacob  Bloker  was  become  an  irreproachable  patriot, 
somewhat  indifferent,  perhaps,  to  the  welfare  of  the 
sewing-women  whom  he  employed,  in  the  execution  of 
his  contracts,  at  thirty  cents  a  day,  but  an  irreproach 
able  patriot  still,  who  believed  in  Fort  Rochambeau, 
pyrotechnics  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  and  a  censorship 
for  disputant  newspapers. 


AMEKICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME. 


349 


CHAPTEE   XLIV. 


I  am  now  in  the  nineteenth  book  of  the  Iliad,  and  on  the  point  of  dis 
playing  such  feats  of  heroism  performed  by  Achilles,  as  make  all  other 
achievements  trivial. — COWPEK'S  LETTERS. 


jQUILA  GLUMP  -was  meditating  in 
his  counting-room  in  Phoenix-block, 
Commerce-street.  It  was  a  drizzly 
night,  and  the  clock  had  just  struck 
nine.  The  Evening  Popgun  lay  out 
spread  upon  his  knees,  and  the  jar 
of  a  passing  omnibus  as  it  tinkled 
from  tier  to  tier  of  the  hollow  hard 
ware  mingled  with  his  reveries.  "  It 
is  the  very  thing !"  thought  Aquila  Glump,  nodding  his 
head  with  sage  emphasis  as  he  contemplated  the  dim 
outlines  of  the  pots  and  kettles  by  which  he  was  sur 
rounded;  "a  currency  of  iron  is  the  remedy  for  the 
distress  and  extravagance  of  the  times — with  brass  for 
high  values.  It  would  prevent  speculation;  it  would 
keep  out  luxuries,  and  punish  John  Bull  and  the 
French ;  it  would  foster  frugality  and  patriotism ;  and 
it  would  promote  human  health  by  compelling  your 
nice  feeders  to  adopt  a  more  simple  and  natural  diet;" 
30 


350  THE   HOBTONS;   OR 

and  he  particularized  this  point  in  his  reflections  with 
a  ghastly  grin,  for  Aquila  Glump  was  dyspeptic,  and 
dined  sometimes  off  a  Digby  herring,  which  he  pre 
ceded  with  a  mixture  of  magnesia  and  charcoal.  "  The 
soldiers  wouldn't  have  it?"  he  continued  interroga 
tively  in  his  cogitation:  "Shoot  'em  for  mutiny,  and 
make  another  draft !  But  there  is  a  precedent — the 
Spartan  soldiers  took  it ;  and  Broil  and  Blacking,  of 
the  War  Office,  two  of  the  most  remarkable  men  of  this 
or  any  other  country,  can  fix  it  in  an  opinion  or  general 
orders.  The  statesmen  can  have  their  cast  iron  heads, 
labelled,  to  transmit  to  the  latest  posterity.  As  a 
sharp-sighted  patriot,  I'll  sell  the  Treasury  my  stock 
in  trade  at  ten  per  cent,  less  than  retail  prices,  for — " 
he  had  nearly  thought  "cash,"  but  jerked  his  mind  at 
the  inconsistency,  and  at  the  same  time  looking  toward 
the  door  he  perceived  beyond  it  the  figure  of  a  man 
like  unto  Bartimeus  Scroggs. 

The  figure  indeed  was  Scroggs,  but  the  habiliments 
were  martial ;  a  six-shooter  was  in  his  belt,  a  trenchant 
sabre  hung  at  his  side,  and  the  military  shape  had  been 
given  to  his  unassuming  whiskers.  But  the  day  before 
Scroggs  had  taken  Phoanix-block  en  route  for  Wash 
ington,  and  was  this  his  brow  again,  lowering  like  the 
front  of  battle,  beneath  a  corded  hat  ? 

"  'Tis  he ! — how  came  he  thence  ? — what  does  he  here  ?" 

Not  with  the  strides  of  Tarquin — not  with  the  rush 
of  spear-launching  Achilles  when  through  the  imper 
fect  armor  he  transfixed  the  ueck  of  Hector,  nor  yet 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  351 

with  feline  spring,  advanced  Bartimeus  upon  Aquila 
Glump;  but  with  a  steady,  deliberate,  and  majestical 
limp ;  while  thus  he  spake. 

"I  had  rather  see  no  money  in  an  army  contract 
than  be  here  to-night." 

"Mad! — poor  man,  the  spirits  have  turned  his  head/' 
muttered  Glump,  as  he  retreated  behind  a  desk  and 
furtively  seized  a  ruler. 

"But  feelings  for  softer  times!  Friend  Glump!  I 
arrest  you  for  misprision  of  treason,  and  I  hope,  as  a 
reasonable  citizen,  you  will  submit  without  a  murmur." 

"Stand  back,  Scroggs,  or  I'll  prostrate  you!  It's  a 
trick — you  are  imposed  on,  I  say !" 

"I  got  the  warrant  at  Washington,  and  it's  regular; 
based  on  the  depositions  of  two  detectives." 

"I'm  a  loyal  man,  and  invest  in  Government  sevens 
— I  read  all  the  war  articles  in  the  Popgun — my 
patriotism,  sir,  is  indisputable !" 

"I  hope  so,  but  I  must  do  my  duty.  You  can  write 
to  the  Administration  from  Fort  Rochambeau;  perad- 
venture  it  will  correct  the  mistake." 

"Ill  stay  in  Phoenix-block  and  save  it  the  trouble, 
being  free-born  and  of  lawful  age — in  short,  an  Ameri 
can  citizen." 

And  now  it  was  that  the  wranglers  grappled  each 
other  in  fierce  contention,  till  the  heightening  clamor 
appalled  the  rats  and  was  answered  by  a  deep-moiithed 
ball-dog  from  the  vault.  Glump  dealt  with  the  ruler 
rapid  and  resounding  blows  upon  the  corpus  of 
Scroggs,  while  that  Rowland  was  prevented  drawing 
his  lethal  weapon  for  the  extirpation  of  his  adversary, 


352  THE   HORTONS;   OB 

who  had  promptly  grasped  the  scabbard  and  held  it 
with  the  hilt  jammed  into  its  owner's  abdomen.  Un 
able  to  assume  the  offensive  with  his  virgin  blade,  he 
seized  a  pattern  pot-lid  which  was  luckily  at  hand, 
interposed  it  as  a  shield  between  his  person  and  the 
strokes  of  his  antagonist,  and  under  its  cover,  dexter 
ously  putting  his  body  into  the  position  of  an  antique 
military  engine,  butted  with  such  irresistible  impulsion 
as  to  carry  the  enemy  clean  off  his  legs.  And  so  the 
issue  of  the  struggle  seemed  declared.  But  the  Cloud- 
compeller,  beholding,  sent  an  Olympian  to  the  rescue — 
business  worthy  of  a  god !  A  package  of  flat-irons  was 
timeouly  jostled  from  a  shelf  above  upon  the  sinewy 
buttock  of  the  victor  as  he  stooped  with  fell  intent. 
Seized  with  agony  and  amazement,  he  fled  amain. 

The  excitement  of  that  eventful  night  was  fatal  to 
Bartimeus  Scroggs.  At  twenty-seven  minutes  past 
twelve  he  died  in  a  fit.  He  had  just  been  appointed 
Commissioner  to  the  Bey  of  Biscay,  and  his  credentials 
with  the  official  creases  undisturbed  were  found  in  the 
lining  of  his  hat.  Myrtles  grow  at  Biscay,  and  orange 
trees  blossom  all  the  year  round.  The  summer  sol 
stice  at  Biscay  is  one  siesta,  and  little  birds  sing  ditties 
to  their  innocent  mates.  Yet  had  the  patriot  who  has 
left  us  chosen,  even  against  this  Eden  he  would  have 
voted  for  the  storied  grave,  where,  wrapped  in  the  star- 
spangled  banner  of  his  country,  he  sleeps  in  peace. 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME. 


853 


CHAPTER    XLV. 

I  would  have  thee  know, 
He  does  not  breathe  this  air, 
Whose  love  I  cherish,  and  whose  soul  I  lore, 

More  than  Mounchensey's. 

OLD  PLAT. 

Thou  art  Arthur,  of  the  golden  crown ! 

'VIL  likings,  as  hatreds  often  do,  distil  in 
darkness  drop  by  drop,  and  harden  like 
stalactites.  With  music  and  merriment, 
amused  by  fancy,  charmed  by  animal 
pleasures,  and  impelled  by  sensual  de 
sire,  Bradley  Horton  glided  into  a  whirl 
of  excesses.  There  was  mad  gaiety  in 
brandy,  and  he  sought  it— oblivion,  and 
it  was  welcome.  His  intellect  flashed 
to  the  blaze  which  was  consuming  it. 
He  could  see  the  sparkling  of  its  reflection  in  the  eyes 
of  his  boon  companions,  and  he  beheld  it  with  exulting 
vanity.  He  became  "as  a  city  broken  down,  and 
without  walls."  His  daily  life  was  a  tide  of  excitement 
which  swelled  into  the  turbulence  of  midnight. 

Against  this  continued   and  unsparing  assault,  the 
efforts  of  nature  to  maintain  her  integrity  were  arrayed 
in  vain.     Delirium  came,   with  its   attendant  horrors, 
30* 


354  THE   HORTONS;    OR 

to  seize  the  empire  which  Beason  had  abdicated.  In 
describable  are  the  mockeries,  the  infernal  insultations, 
the  overpowering  dreads,  the  agonizing  suspenses,  the 
loathsome  shapes,  the  countless  tortures  exquisite 
beyond  human  contriving,  and  the  voices  of  accusa 
tion  and  doom — voices  to  which  cloven  tongues  of 
fire  would  add  no  terror,  that  arise  from  that  hell  of 
the  cup! 

Under  God,  he  owed  his  life  to  the  devotion  of  one 
true  heart.  Paul  Mervine  was  a  Southerner — the  Good 
Samaritan  belongs  no  more  to  geography  than  an 
angel.  In  this  noble  friend  a  woman's  tenderness  and 
refinement  were  united  to  lofty  courage.  The  well- 
tempered  masculineness  was  seen  to  gleam  like  the 
limbs  of  Adam  among  the  flowers  of  Eve.  There  was 
a  dignity  in  his  nature  which,  to  common  observers, 
seemed  but  a  large  measure  of  amiability;  and  a  tone 
which,  though  it  pleased  them,  was  above  their  com 
prehension.  His  prejudices  were  those  of  a  man  who 
despised  duplicity  and  all  meanness.  Every  moment 
which  he  could  spare  from  an  exacting  business  was 
spent  in  attending  to  Bradley.  He  soothed  him  with 
kind  words;  he  suggested,  gently  considerate,  many 
comforts,  and  provided  them;  he  bore  him  in  his 
strong  arms.  On  a  sofa,  beside  the  sufferer's  bed, 
sleeping  fitfully  at  best,  with  the  solicitude  of  a  young 
bride,  he  watched  through  many  nights.  And  when 
amendment  came,  the  gladness  of  his  good  heart  leaped 
to  his  lips  in  smiles. 

Paul  Mervine's  kindnesses  may  not  be  recorded  here. 
Rich  jewels  are  lessened  to  strange  eyes:  to  such,  even 


AMERICAN   LIFE  AT   HOME.  355 

goodness  of  mark  is  like  water  locked  in  diamonds,  the 
flash  of  which  they  see  above  the  common  light  and 
cannot  count  its  value.  It  is  better  to  live  well  in  the 
meanest  human  heart  by  its  memories  of  the  timely  oil 
and  wine,  than  to  be  able  to  weigh  the  satellites  of 
Jupiter ! 

Paul  Mervine  was  fond  of  birds,  and  kept  them ;  he 
was  the  gentlest  of  gaolers.  Gradually  he  accustomed 
them  to  enlargement,  and  the  more  docile  knew  the 
cage  only  as  the  shelter  of  their  choice.  When  a  boy, 
the  martins  never  left  the  village  boxes  but  he  knew 
beforehand  they  were  packing  up ;  and,  sure,  the  trou 
bles  of  moving  would  have  been  lightened  had  the  ebon 
emigrants  understood  how  fully  they  were  shared. 
Bradley  passed  many  of  the  calm  hours  of  convales 
cence  with  his  friend's  family,  and  at  these  times  Paul 
would  steal  apart  from  his  occupations  to  taste  the 
tranquil  scene.  So  they  were  together  one  morning, 
when  a  person  of  threatening  aspect  entered  at  the. 
open  door,  trailing  a  musket. 

"Paul!  this  thing  cannot  go  on  longer — it  is  inexpi 
able — it  must  stop  here !"  exclaimed  the  intruder. 

At  one  startled  look  Bradley  knew  that  he  had  seen 
the  face  before.  It  was  Blumenbach  of  the  old  count 
ing-house  days  in  the  city. 

Paul's  composure  disconcerted  his  purpose,  if  pur 
pose  he  had.  He  was,  it  seemed,  one  of  Paul's  utm- 
vailables  j  and,  in  truth,  they  were  a  queer  lot.  Spirit 
ism  had  desolated  his  fine  intellect,  never  robust, 
perhaps,  but  once  attuned  to  the  choicest  chords  of 
harmony.  He  was  become  an  idle,  meaningless  man, 


356  THE   HORTONS;   OR 

who  heard  voices  in  the  air  and  wrestled  with  spirits  in 
the  night — the  surges  of  the  pit  had  passed  over  him. 
The  wretched  stir  of  the  invisible-infernal  was  to  him 
the  mysterious  music  of  the  spheres!  Incapable  of 
continuous  attention  to  any  pursuit,  he  would  yet  talk 
with  pleasing  intelligence  if  the  theme  was  foreign  to 
the  engrossing  subject  of  his  thoughts.  Once  there, 
chaos  came  again.  Confidence  and  suspicion  possessed 
his  mind  successively,  as  his  impressions  varied;  and 
its  delicate  organization  aggravated  the  torment.  Pro 
bably  his  dog  was  the  only  creature  which  he  did  not 
distrust,  until  he  conceived  some  metaphysical  absurd 
ity  of  transmigration  that  brought  the  poor  animal  to 
disgrace. 

Paul  Mervine  was  unmarried,  though  his  presence 
was  as  goodly  as  that  of  Absalom.  Perhaps  he  was 
deficient  in  small-talk;  or  it  was  his  modesty  that — but 
we  know  that  the  heart  of  woman  turns  instinctively  to 
unobtrusive  worth  in  men.  Witness  the  consecrated 
union  yesterday  of  Burnish,  the  banker — octogenarian 
Burnish,  with  that  dove  of  dulcet  cooing,  the  promising 
child  whom  you  fondled,  friend  and  fellow-militiaman, 
when  your  whiskers  began  to  bud!  Or,  and  like 
enough,  Paul  had  never  willed  it  otherwise.  Such  was 
the  flow  of  thought  in  the  mind  of  Bradley  as  he  sat  in 
the  bird-room  over  a  newspaper.  At  the  height  of  it, 
his  eye  fell  upon  this  paragraph. 

« 
A  FASHIONABLE  WEDDING. 

On  Tuesday,  the  22d  inst.,  in  the  presence  of  a  large 
and  brilliant  assemblage,  at  Saint  Simons,  by  the  Rev. 


AMERICAN   LIFE   AT   HOME.  357 

Ilildebrand  Mildman,  assisted  by  the  Eev.  Sharon 
Gawseloome,  Jacob  Bloker,  esquire,  to  Caroline,  daugh 
ter  of  Doctor  Peter  Mellen. 

In  a  paroxysm  of  surprise,  Bradley  dropped  the 
newspaper.  There  was  a  sudden  chirp.  It  came  from 
a  bright-breasted  canary,  which,  with  its  head  on  one 
side,  was  gazing  in  dreamy  rapture  at  a  snake  in  a 
bottle  of  spirits,  whose  golden  scales  gleamed  in  the 
sunlight. 


358 


THE  HOKTONS;    OK 


CHAPTEE    XLYI. 

The  course  of  a  rapid  river  is  the  justest  of  all  emblems  to  express  the 
variableness  of  our  scene  below.  Shakespeare  says,  none  ever  bathed 
himself  twice  in  the  same  stream,  and  it  is  equally  true,  that  the  world, 
upon  which  we  close  our  eyes  at  night,  is  never  the  same  with  that  on 
which  we  open  them  in  the  morning. — COWPER'S  LETTERS. 

HE  grey  autumn  morning  looks  upon 
a  death-bed  with  mourners  beside  it, 
in  a  city  chamber.  Clement  Horton 
is  calmly  approaching  the  Unseen. 
The  tender  words  have  been  spoken, 
and  offered  the  silent  prayers,  and  his 
pure  and  peaceful  soul  passes  at  the 
summons. 

The  noises  of  the  awakened  town 
swell  in  the  streets,  but  they  are  no 
longer  heeded  by  the  dull  ear  of  one  who  loved  the  stir 
of  busy  life.  Henceforth,  action  for  him  shall  have  a 
better  voice.  There  is  a  repose  in  his  face,  as  he  lays 
gasping,  which  tells  of  more  than  an  enforced  submis 
sion.  The  heart  is  surely  in  that  look!  Though  it 
cannot  allay  their  present  grief,  the  bereaved  will 
remember  it  and  rejoice.  They  will  keep  his  picture 
with  sacred  care,  but  they  will  carry  within  them  a 
more  cherished  image  of  a  departed  father  and  friend. 
With  heaviness  for  the  virtue  earth  and  we  are  losing, 


AMEEICAN   LIFE  AT  HOME.  359 

and  thanks  to  God  that  it  was  given,  we  turn  sorrow 
fully  away. 

"I  have  news  for  you,  sis!"  exclaimed  Frank  War 
ner  as  Jane  Davenport  entered  the  sitting-room;  "Miss 
Emily  is  coming  here." 

"Yes,  Frank;  you  must  keep  as  cheerful  as  a 
cricket." 

"It  is  crying  nice  news,  and  my  sick  mocking-bird 
begins  to  sing  again  1" 

The  marriage  of  Henry  Davenport  and  Jane  "Warner 
scandalized  the  decayed  virgins.  They  went  about 
with  noses  full  of  snuff  and  hearts  full  of  malice,  and 
croaked  confusion  to  the  match — "Fifty,  if  he's  a  day! 
Seraphina  Blessing  caught  him  a  pulling  out  the  grey 
hairs  with  tweezers — and,  my  dear,  the  bride  is  a  few 
years  younger  than  I,  a  mere  chit!"  Eegardless  of 
the  dismal  old  ravens,  Henry  Davenport  walked  with  a 
step  as  springy  as  when  he  tied  fancy  knots  in  his  cra 
vat  and  punched  Wilson's  ribs  with  McCullough-at  the 
counting-house  in  the  city  long  ago;  and  looked,  in 
deed,  as  if  he  might. live  to  be  a  contented  cotemporary 
with  his  grandchildren.  Jane  changed  naturally  and 
gracefully  into  a  matron,  and  was  in  all  respects,  'Hen 
ry's  venerable  mother  declared,  like  herself  at  that 
period  of  existence. 

That  good-hearted  veteran  persisted  in  accumulating 
receipts  for  posterity,  and  accomplished  fresh  cures, 
that  brought  her  increase  of  reputation,  with  an  origi 
nal  eye- water  made  of  the  last  spring  snow  in  a  fluid 


360  THE  HORTONS;    OB 

state,  and  strengthened  by  undivulged  combinations. 
When  there  was  a  severe  pressure  for  salve  she  some 
times  took  Frank  so  far  into  her  confidence  as  to 
permit  him  to  watch  the  boiling;  during  which  she 
recounted  for  his  instruction  the  various  instances  of 
healing  which  had  resulted  from  the  use  of  the  remedy. 
But,  despite  the  excellence  of  her  system  of  teaching, 
she  discovered  in  him  little  genius  for  medicine,  and 
was  not  encouraged. 

When  the  expectation  of  the  year  had  past,  and  the 
door-yard  trees  stood  bare  and  gaunt  beneath  the  win 
ter  sky,  it  was  still  June  at  the  unpretending  hearth  of 
Henry  Davenport.  Thither  came  good  angels  with 
healing  in  their  wings.  The  faith  which  lives  within 
us,  works  without  us,  and  Heaven  is  radiated  from  a 
cheerfully  virtuous  family  wherein  is  set  up  an  altar  to 
the  Lord !  The  number  of  Frank's  pets  was  increased 
by  a  quail  and  a  squirrel,  the  gifts  of  Farmer  Gregg, 
and  a  parrot  from  the  Spanish  Main,  which  escaped 
soon  after  its  arrival  to  the  farmer's  house  and 
alarmed  his  good  wife  in  the  middle  of  the  night  by 
shrill  cries  in  choice  Castilian.  Farmer  Gregg  often 
brought  a  pocket-full  of  nuts  for  "  Bonny,"  and  after 
feeding  him  would  sit  and  watch  the  rapid  gyration  of 
the  cage  with  child-like  simplicity  of  interest ;  or  tell 
the  boy  legends  and  experiences.  What  the  princess 
of  Abyssinia  failed  to  find  in  the  land  of  Egypt,  was 
here — a  happy  household,  thankful  for  humble  plea 
sures,  and  superior  for  the  main  to  the  littlenesses  and 
vanities  of  life. 


AMERICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME. 


361 


CHAPTER   XLYII. 

They  were  simple  bubbles,  blown  hither  and  thither  according  to  the 
child's  fancy,  yet  they  caught  something  of  the  sky,  and  something  of 
the  human  face. 

9 

HE  Horton  experience  is  approaching 
an  end.  It  has  not  been  diffusely 
told.  As  a  veracious  history,  it  has 
not  half  the '  tragic  spice  which  a 
cultivated  taste  in  fiction  demands. 
There  is  not  a  bandit  in  the  book, 
and  neither  battle  nor  murder.  Only 
the  illustrious  Scroggs  comes  to  sud 
den  death.  It  is  true,  one  or  two  of 
the  characters  should  have  perished 
for  their  offences,  but  they  did  not.  It  must  be  consid 
ered  that  most  pilgrimages  survive  the  simoom. 

Jacob  Bloker,  probably,  has  no  other  twinges  thai? 
those  of  gout.  That  disease  of  late  has  thrown  ou* 
skirmishing  pains  toward  his  stomach.  This  is  unplea  • 
,sant,  both  as  a  declaration  against  good  dinners  and  as 
investing  with  doubt  the  continuance  of  the  tenure  by 
which  he  has  his  ships  and  merchandize,  his  patriotism, 
houses  and  lands.  Perhaps  he  is  not  certain  that  ha 
shall  thrive  so  well  in  another  life.  Meantime,  Caroline 
Bloker  is  a  queen  in  Shoddy,  dispensing  much  fine 
31 


362     THE  HORTONS;    OE,  AMERICAN  LIFE  AT  HOME. 

action  and  "brilliant  conversation,  to  the  annoyance  of 
rival  sovereigns  who  lack  her  parts  and  polish.  What 
ever  else  there  may  be,  there  is  no  gout,  sure,  in  her 
world. 

That,  at  least,  is  the  opinion  of  Max  Heyhurst,  whom 
she  has  ceased  to  know.  Max  has  sometimes  seen  the 
outside  of  her  carriage  at  a  crossing  on  opera  nights,  as 
it  was  driven  before  him.  He  is  preparing  for  the 
ministry.  He  was  converted  at  a  prayer-meeting,  and 
has  deserted  his  pictures.  His  vivacity  is  subdued,  but 
there  is  enough  of  it  left,  and  he  will  probably  never 
be  an  austere  Christian.  He  is  at  Princeton. 

Bradley  Horton  and  Paul  Mervine  are  in  Brazil,  con 
templating,  perhaps,  from  Tijuca  the  beautiful  bay,  and 
the  city  of  St.  Sebastion  beside  it  flashing  in  tropical 
sunlight  amid  its  emerald  hills;  or  wandering  in  the 
Serra  dos  Orgoes,  where  the  cascade  gleams  forever  on 
the  cliff,  where  nature  is  most  bountiful  and  gorgeous 
in  flowers,  fruit,  and  foliage,  and  pictured  prospects  of 
sky  and  sea,  and  all  the  sumptuousness  of  summer. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Form  L9-Series  4939 


PS1269.       C272H 


